THE SALT OF THE EARTH
by tygermommy
Summary: Sam spent a night with an angel and now Dean is left to carry the result. All is fine until Crowley becomes involved. Drama, schmoop, angst and hilarity ensue. WARNINGS: MPREG, long birth, but not a typical one...Also for language...Don't be afraid-it's a good story! NO SLASH or magic ladyparts-not into it, folks! REVISED! I'M BACK Chapters 1-21 up! FIN! PLEASE R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Salt of the earth chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any Supernatural characters, although I will take credit for my own amazing characters and their brilliant interactions with Dean and Sam. No dough will be made from these guys, much to my chagrin.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: A HUGE thank you to my awesome Beta and new friend, cmsserenity, and my Artist, amber1960—you guys are rockstars!

THE SALT OF THE EARTH

Sam dropped off Dean 15 minutes prior to the time and place where Cas had requested the elder Winchester to meet him. He wanted to scout things out and get the lay of the land for areas to use to his advantage or plan an escape route, if that became necessary. It was at the edge of what appeared to be a large farm or a sprawling ranch, just outside of the pasture alongside a split rail fence and cow path. High, uncut grass grew along the way and continued into the small field alongside the road. Large, old, trees bare of leaves scattered the landscape and widened the variety of ways to defend, fight or make a run for it. There were plenty of places to hide—for Dean, Sam and the Impala. Cas seemed a little 'out of sorts' lately (more so than normal) and neither brother knew what it was about. This, of course, contributed to the brothers' suspicions of unfair play, but after some discussion, they agreed that they would investigate.

Dean wasn't sure what to expect from any angle. He just knew he needed to be there to help his friend.

Cas had asked respectfully if Dean could come himself, and assured both that it was not out of lack of trust. That was two days ago. He appeared to them in New Orleans after a particularly difficult hunt, and neither Dean nor Sam had slept much at all before heading to Texas. They picked up and traveled as per Cas' directions, wondering what case they would be working on and what Cas had gotten himself into. Sam would wait on standby at the bed and breakfast in town to get the scoop on the angel and his need for Dean's assistance. He and Dean had agreed that if Dean wasn't back by nightfall, Sam would come, armed to the teeth.

Their trust in Cas had returned for the most part, but they always were aware that he had other priorities and duties to see through and some of them were, for lack of a better phrase, not above the table. Even though there was a shakeup in Heaven, and they were in the midst of a Civil War Reconstruction of their own, the angels still fought amongst themselves for power and position. Dean wasn't sure where Cas fit in with all this and the "New Heaven." He wasn't talking. So, knowing this, they made arrangements prior to any solo activity to meet with each other, debrief, and rescue if needed.

The brothers' trust in each other was deep and rejuvenated. Each knew that no one in the world loved the other more. They'd still argue and get frustrated with each other, prank each other, and fight, but they knew, in the end, all they had was each other. Sam was worried and told Dean about it. Ever since Dean had expressed the desire to die "with a gun in my hand," Sam wanted to ensure this didn't happen, that Dean knew _how much_ he meant to Sam, and that he deserved to die as an old man, warm in bed, surrounded by his grandchildren, just like Dean thought Sam did. Dean needed to see that he wasn't some kind of "berserker" that wrought his own destruction; that he was smart, valuable, and still had a lot to contribute to the world beyond saving the whole thing from time to time. Truth being said, Sam still felt some guilt for not looking for Dean more aggressively when he was in purgatory, and would spend a significant time proving to Dean that his absence was a dreadful mistake that he would never, ever, make again. So, Sam sat on the edge of the bed, ready to spring as soon as he was needed, or the sun fell.

Dean stood on the cow path, waiting, senses becoming more and more heightened as time passed. It was now 15 minutes beyond when Cas asked him to be there. He appeared, looking panicked and panting, holding a glowing orb in his right hand. Dean's eye's widened as Cas stepped close.

"I need you to hide something for me," he said, looking Dean in the eye.

Before Dean could protest or ask questions, Cas moved swiftly with the orb towards Dean's abdomen, right under his navel, and pushed.

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

Sam's stomach rolled when he caught sight of a human heap by the side of the path where Dean indicated he needed to meet Cas. He'd gotten more and more panicked when he'd tried to call a few times and his brother didn't answer, but agreed to abide by their agreement and wait until sundown to look for him.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, running over to him. He was regretting their latest 'non-agreement' already. He rolled his brother over onto his back. He was breathing, thank God, and as Sam shook him, his eyes started rolling around in their sockets, and he woke. "Hey! You okay?"

It took a second for Dean to gather his wits enough to answer, do a mental exam and reply. "Yeah, I think so. Get offa me."

Sam stood back and Dean slowly rose to his feet, and then nearly collapsed again. Damn, he was dizzy. Sam grabbed his arm firmly to help him gain his balance, concern growing in his eyes, as well as questioning, "What the fuck happened? Where's Cas?"

Dean's eyes widened and he blinked, still allowing Sam to keep hold of him, and in fact, found himself holding onto his brother in return.

"I'm not sure. I only saw him for like, four seconds. He-he said he needed me to hide something for him, and then he jammed something into me. It was glowing."

"What do you mean, 'jammed something' into you? Where?"

Dean lowered his brows and looked at his brother. "Maybe that was poor wording. Help me back to the car and I'll explain at the B 'n' B."

He grabbed onto Sam again as they turned around. The younger Winchester's concern grew, as Dean would rarely let himself be assisted anywhere, even if he was bleeding from the eyes. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but Dean's grip on his arm scared him.

They made their way through the patch of high weeds and grass back to the Impala, and Sam opened the passenger side door for his brother. Dean didn't raise a fuss or bitch. He just sat down and put his head against the rest and closed his eyes. Again, a sign Sam didn't like. He needed to know what happened and what they were up against, if anything.

He parked as close to the B&B as possible and again helped his listless brother inside and up to their room. Dean made a straight shot to his bed and collapsed into it, not even bothering to remove his boots or his dew- and mud-stained over shirt. Sam took these things off gently, and then urged his semi-conscious brother to get under the covers. Dean didn't seem to be in any pain and he wasn't bleeding, but Sam agreed that at least through the night, he would maintain watch over his brother for any signs of Post-Angel Syndrome his brother may manifest, at least until he got the story.

It was two full days until Dean awoke.

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

He opened his eyes slowly and surveyed the room. Sam was sitting up in the adjacent bed and leaning against the headboard, softly snoring. His faithful computer sat on his lap. God knows how long he had been researching.

Dean rolled over to his side and sighed. The four seconds he had met with Cas were coming back to him. He remembered not being able to move or raise his arms in protest, and the intense pain and pressure he'd felt in his lower abdomen when Cas forced _whatever that was_inside him. Then, he remembered losing every sense except his hearing, then, it disappeared, too. He took a deep breath again and laid there for a moment until he felt the contents of his stomach rising up his esophagus and he bolted for the bathroom.

This, of course, roused Sam from his rest, and he jumped out of bed to follow his brother.

"Dean?"

He stopped beside his brother by the sink and filled up a glass of water. "Here," he said, "You okay?"

"Do I look okay, Sam? Really?" Dean said gruffly, still anchoring himself to the toilet by one hand. He used his free hand to take the sip of water, gave it back to Sam, and wiped his face. "Gawd, I hate puking." He waved his hand in the air until he caught hold of his brother, and stood up. "I didn't even drink!"

Sam looked directly at him. "What's going on?"

Dean met his eyes for a moment, then pushed by him to return to his bed. "I dunno," he started. "First thing I know is that he shows up with this glowy thingy in his hand—God, he looked like he was rode hard and put away wet—and then he says I need to hide something for him and shoves the glowy thingy into my stomach. It hurt. End of story."

"Then you pass out until I come to get you, sleep for two days and puke when you get up." Sam sat on his bed opposite his brother, studying him intently.

"Two days?"

"Yeah. And you didn't even move."

"Did you try to call him?"

"Yeah. Since I got you here. No answer."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Angel radio must be down again."

"Or not. And he can't."

"So what'll we do?"

Sam stood up and paced for a short time. "Park it here until we hear from him? I dunno. Research. Figure out what he's hiding and who from."

Dean scowled. "I want my room."

"Are there any marks on you?"

Dean lifted his shirt. His stomach looked unscathed. "No. Nothing. I just feel like I haven't pooped for awhile."

"TMI, Dean. Maybe you should indulge in a salad or two every now and then, you know, like you told Kevin? Quit hitting up the cheese. Dare I ask if you want something to eat?" Sam asked glancing at his brother and putting on his shoes.

"I guess. Whatever. I'm gonna lay down again."

"You just woke up."

"Yeah, I know. Maybe I'm coming down with something. Maybe it doesn't have anything to do with Cas."

Sam looked at his brother before opening the door. "I doubt it. Nothing coincidental happens with us."


	2. Chapter 2

LJ Salt of the Earth Chapter 2

Sam reentered the room a half an hour later, and predictably, his brother was asleep. Not only was he asleep, he was drooling ALL OVER Sam's pillow. Sam looked to the ceiling, irritated, and yanked the pillow from under his brother's head, letting it slam into the bed.

Dean jerked awake, and in one movement Sam would later recall that he would never see again, Dean bounced off the bed (Sam said, "Planking. Dude, you PLANKED off the bed,") and onto the carpet runner between the two beds. Sam was still giggling out loud when Dean raised his head above mattress level. "Was that really necessary, Sam? I was sleeping. And I'm not in my own bed. And I'm sick."

"And you slobbered all over MY pillow. Like a dog. Like Pavlov's fucking dog. You were salivating in your sleep. Hog."

"Didn't Pavlov have a rat?"

"No. That was Tolman."

"Oh."

Sam glared as he opened the bag, full of breakfast items from the Deli three blocks away. "I got fresh donuts, a ham and cheese croissant, and bagels and cream cheese. Which would you like? I recommend the bagels, they're bland."

Dean grabbed the bag enthusiastically, and looked inside. It all looked good until the smell of the ham hit his nose, effectively nullifying any appetite he might have worked up. He gulped and handed it back to Sam. "That's okay. Not right now."

Sam studied him for a moment. He kept quiet though, wanting to observe more and gather before he came to any conclusion about what flavor of Angel mojo was pushed into his brother. "You at least need to drink something. Coffee?"

"Yeah. That's excellent. Thanks."

Dean sipped his drink, again trying to recall any detail that might give the brothers a hint about what was happening. The news of the day was unremarkable, except for an unusual number of sailors near the Gulf of Mexico reporting the Green Flash.

"That story has been around for hundreds of years, but most people who claim to have seen it never did. It means a soul has returned to Earth. It happens when the sun just disappears over the horizon for, like, a millisecond. And fifty fishermen are saying they saw it? It's definitely extraordinary, but no one was hurt."

Dean tapped his temple. "Make a mental note of it, Man of Letters."

Sam admitted that he probably should, and broke out the journal, writing down the time and date of the occurrence. His thoughts kept going back to his brother's incident with Cas. They both happened at the same time.

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

Two weeks passed and Cas never came. Neither brother could explain the angel's absence, nor could they explain Dean's behavior or health. He slept a lot. He threw up a lot, many times without rhyme or reason. He had no temperature, no inexplicable bruising or bleeding, a sense of smell that would rival a starved hellhound, and a cranky disposition that Sam had just had enough of. He bitched about everything from Sam's method of replacing toilet paper ("It goes over Sam! Over!") to how much pepperoni was on the pizza. Sam attributed it to staying in one place too long in Nowhere, Panhandle Texas with nothing to hunt, or do. They would die of boredom and booze.

That is, if Dean drank. He was thirsty all the time, but only drank water. Weird. He told Sam he lost his taste for alcohol. Not just beer, but ALL alcohol. How was that even possible?

Dean noticed Sam growing more and more suspicious and protective, and admitted to himself it was kind of nice to know his brother was looking out for him even when it really didn't seem like much was going on. He was insistent on spreading salt and goofer dust on the window panes and thresholds, keeping a healthy share of holy water peppering the room in little containers, and sleeping only when Dean was awake and watching him all night.

"Dude. I keep telling you, I'm fine. I feel fine. I'm not weak, I'm not sick. We've done all the tests. I drank my share of holy water, chrism and cut myself with silver. Whatever is in me must be pretty innocuous. Maybe I just need to rest. Maybe."

"Dean, I'm not buying what you're selling. I don't know what this is, but it's not you. Black and white. You're not drinking, you're not eating, and when you do, it's some kind of concoction that would make a billygoat gag. Things are bothering you more than they ever do. You don't even poop as often as you did before AND there's something inside you and we don't know what it is, AND Cas is nowhere to be found. I highly doubt it's innocuous. Why would he have to hide it then? Maybe it's poisoning you."

Dean hadn't even considered this avenue of thought. "Really?" His left hand traveled to the spot where Cas had touched him. Nothing. No pain, no bruising…wait…was that a swell?

"What?" Sam asked when he saw his brother's expression change.

"Nothing. I think. Do you see anything here?"

Dean pulled up his shirt to expose his lower abdomen.

"No. Why?"

"Nothing. I need to eat more salad." The sour look he shot Sam was more than the younger Winchester could bear.

"Maybe we should just head back to the bunker. Cas can find us anywhere and we can research…something."

Dean's face brightened at the thought. As nice as the bed and breakfast was, it wasn't home. HIS home. He wanted to 'nest' a little more, snuggle into the memory foam bed, and cook some his Dean's Diner hamburgers for his brother. Domestic life certainly had its charm. Besides, he liked seeing Sam enjoy something that wasn't green or healthy.

"Wanna wait until morning or go now?" Sam asked.

"You really need to ask? Now. I'm driving."

Just then and without warning, Cas appeared between them, and again he looked haggard and exhausted. He was sporting a beard close to what Dean remembered from Purgatory, and he was panting like he'd been running for a month.

"Dean, Sam, you need to come with me now. NOW!"

Just as Cas grabbed the two men, the bed and breakfast room was invaded, no, burned, blown to smithereens, _obliterated_…both Dean and Sam felt flame caress their skin as they were whisked away, as well as splinters of wood and other debris. The bed and breakfast had to have been at least 150 years old, but no more…


	3. Chapter 3

Salt of the Earth Chapter 3

They ended up right back where it started—in the field along the road where Dean met Cas and was made into a walking, talking cloak to whatever Cas was trying to hide. He turned to them quickly, and gave each man a hard shove, over the split-rail fence and into the pasture.

Two women stood under a weeping willow tree, waiting for Cas and his "packages." They were around their mid to late-twenties and wrapped in sweaters to protect them from the autumn air.

One woman, who Sam presumed to be the oldest, walked up to Cas and hugged him tight and kissed him on the cheek. He returned the gesture. She looked at him, concern easily etched on her face. "We'll take care of them. You be careful. Please?" She grabbed his arm and attempted to continue to hold his gaze as he walked over to the two bewildered men.

"You never would have made it to the bunker." He said. "There's too many looking for you."

"Wait, Cas. Too many what?" Dean started, obviously irritated and out of patience. Damn, he almost made it back to his memory foam…

"Everything. Angels, demons. They've called a truce for a short time to rally against the two of you."

Sam and Dean looked at each other, then back at Cas. Before they could speak, he continued.

"You're safe here. Both of you. It is my purpose to watch over you and the future. I'll die if I have to."

"Wait, Cas," Dean started, "Nobody's dyin' here. What the fuck is going on?! Does this have something to do with what you 'hid' in me?"

Cas attempted to avoid Dean's stare, looked at the two women, and then the ground.

"Yes. It has everything to do with it." He took a long breath. "And it has everything to do with the two of you. I'll be back in the morning. I have some tracks to hide."

He disappeared, leaving Dean and Sam with the two women.

"Wow. Awkward." Sam whispered.

Dean looked up at the women. Damn, they were pretty. Both had long dark hair and beautiful green eyes. Their faces were youthful and oval, and they had tanned skin, probably from working outside. They stood about five-foot-four, and had slight but muscular well-shaped bodies. They wore jeans and work boots and tee shirts under their sweaters. _Obviously related_ he thought_. I like sisters..._

"Hi. I'm Abby and this is my sister, Susanna. This is our ranch," the elder sister said. "Cas told us you were coming." She reached out to shake hands with the brothers. Her sister did, as well.

"Come on this way," Susanna started. "We have a house ready for you."

Sam ran up beside Susanna as they walked. "Do you know what's happening here? Why is this place safe but the bed and breakfast two blocks away was blown to smithereens? And how do you know Cas?"

"Something big is going on and it has to do with your brother. Cas has been here for a long time. He knew my mother and grandmother. We love him despite the mistakes he's made."

Dean's ears perked up. "Why me? What did I do?"

"I can assure you guys we don't know any more than you do. Cas came to us last week and said he might need us to help a couple hunters with a safe place for a while, then last night he told us to meet him here, now. That's all we know."

"This place is protected by God himself. It has been for almost 300 years," Abby started. "That's why it's safe. Anything supernatural needs to be invited in. Evil can't penetrate it, no matter what. Hunters have been coming here for respite for at least two hundred years. Some come because they're tired, others because they want their families protected, or they need protection themselves."

Sam and Dean listened in stunned silence. More answers brought the inevitable more questions. Why hadn't they ever heard of this place? Hiding in plain sight? A RESPITE farm? Sam hadn't discovered any information regarding this place back at the bunker. Why didn't their dad bring them here?

They arrived at what would be their temporary home while whatever was going on was resolved. From what they could see through the moonlight, it was beautiful. Flowers were carefully planted all along the wrap-around perimeter of the house, a bench swing hung from the covered porch, and a cobblestone walk led visitors to the front steps.

Dean looked at Sam, trying to take all of this in and stuff his suspicions about this place. They might have to be here awhile. "Memory foam would make this place perfect. We already have sisters…"

Sam looked incredulously at his brother, then looked away, annoyed. He whispered, "Leave it to you to be thinking about your crotch when the entire supernatural world is on our asses. Again."

They walked up the steps and into the house. The inside was just as pristine as the outside. Off to the right was a large living room, and to the left, a short hallway to the kitchen. Dean was pleased to see that it was well stocked with food.

"We plant, raise and slaughter everything here. We're pretty much self-sustaining. We have 6,500 hundred acres to take care of and harvest, so there's a lot of food to go around," Abby said proudly.

Sam's interest was piqued. "How is it that evil can't enter here? And others need to be invited?"

Abby started. "300 years ago our Great, great, great, great grandfather was in the midst of settling this land, and discovered that it was a burial ground for the Native Americans. The Kiowa tribe. When more German immigrants came to live here, they wanted to dig up the grounds and use the soil for raising crops. My Big Pappap Jack wouldn't let them. It was his land and he wouldn't let anyone infringe upon the people that were here before he was. So they blessed him, his family and his land, that he would be protected by The Great Spirit for as long as we respect the lands of his people and their dead. They come back once a year and celebrate with us."

Susanna piped up. "You know the Iron Dome over Israel? We have one here, too."

Sam nodded in approval. At least there was one answer he would get tonight.

"Your rooms are upstairs. The beds are brand new memory foam, so don't eat on them."

Dean was busy stuffing his cheeks with cheesy ciabatta bread, and with his mouth still full, he made eye contact with Abby, and said, "Did you say memory foam?"

She giggled. "Yeah."

Dean sprinted up the stairs.

Sam shook his head and smiled. "That's the fastest I've seen him move in weeks."

They heard footsteps upstairs, a short shriek, beds creaking, and footsteps again, this time running back to them. Dean appeared at the top of the steps, slid down the railing and kissed Abby on the cheek. "Thank you," he said, and sprinted upstairs again.

Sam raised his eyebrows and looked at both sisters, sighing. "You'd never guess he's the older brother, right?"

This time, both girls giggled. "Take care of yourself, Sam, and your brother," Susanna said. "If you need anything, there's the phone. If you dial 1 it connects to my dad's house. 2 will get you to ours. I'll give you the rest of the directory tomorrow. If you need anything after Cas comes back, we'll be here. I don't know what's happening, but you're safe, and your brother is safe, and you don't know what tomorrow is bringing. Try to rest."

"Thank you," Sam said softly. He shook the girls' hands again as they opened the front door. Susanna turned around and looked up at him. "Our house is straight down this path about 50 yards."

Sam smiled again, gratefully, closed the door and watched the girls walk off in the direction of their house.

Tonight would be a long one.


	4. Chapter 4

Salt of the Earth Chapter 4

A/N: is purely made up. By me. I don't know if a website like this even exists…and, no, I haven't looked for it, either…IF there is a website by that name, it's PURELY coincidence…

Sam crept to the top of the stairs after orienting himself to the rest of the first floor of the house. The floors were hardwood with area rugs scattered throughout. The furniture was old but in good condition and had obviously been taken care of. There were fresh flowers in vases and charming decorations and pictures on the walls. Overall, the house appeared to be well-maintained and secure, but he still was compelled to spread more salt and goofer dust on the window panes and thresholds. He walked into the room that Dean had claimed, and found his brother in nothing but boxer briefs, laying on his back, snoring away. _I'm glad one of us can sleep_, he thought, although the fact that his brother's recent sleep habits might not be under his control or voluntary nagged at him. _Dean may not have much of a choice in the matter_, he thought again_. As a matter of fact, I know he doesn't. He's gone without sleep for less than this…_

With nothing to go on until tomorrow and nothing to consider but Dean's physical signs, Sam decided to note everything that he'd seen Dean experience or complain about since being touched by an angel. First, he wrote 'tired all the time,' then 'hungry', 'puking.' 'cranky,' 'increased sense of smell,' 'changes in bowel habits,' and 'weird cravings.' He submitted all these into and blinked when the result loaded on the screen: Most Likely Condition to Discuss With Your Doctor—PREGNANT.

_No way_, he thought. He plugged in the information again, just to be sure, and the same result appeared on the screen. _Hm. Dean is a guy._ _Not only is he a guy, he's a guy's guy. He doesn't have the equipment to conceive or grow anything or anyone. He wouldn't even know how to keep a plant alive. Could an angel do that to him? Oh, he'd laugh like hell if he knew this is what came up. Or get mad—like—Hulk mad. At Cas, hopefully. It's not like he could miss a period…Gawd, how would it get out? No—nevermind. What a stupid thought. Or not…he did say 'in his stomach,' right?_

Sam glanced over to his sleeping brother, remembering the expression on Dean's face when he'd felt his abdomen, like he'd _found_ something that _wasn't there before_. Sam slowly got off his bed and crept over to Dean's unconscious form, focusing on his brother's lower abdomen. He studied it for a few minutes and decided it didn't look any different than it ever did. Dean had been complaining of constipation, lately, but overall, he looked the same. _Well, that's a good thing, right?_

Sam stood guard over his brother that night. He never left the room and he listened to every breath. He thought about what he must have looked like when he was three and Dean was seven and he was potty training. Dean used to tell him he HATED wearing underwear and whenever he saw them, he'd run away and the only one who could catch him was Dean. Ultimately, Big Brother would wrap him in a seven-year-old bearhug and carry him back to dad. It started, then, to become a game, and when Baby Sammy would look over at his brother, the inevitable giggle would escape, and the baby-butt-down-the-hallway-chase was on. Dean was the one who taught Sam how to ride a bike. Dean was the one who Sam took his first steps toward. Dean was the one who patched up the scraped knee. Dean was the one who Sammy cuddled next to on those creepy, windy, rainy November nights. All this reminiscing made Sam more steadfast in his resolve that nothing, _nothing_would harm his brother, ever again. He had no desire to relive the times he had been without him. Amelia had made the decision not to seek out Dean a little easier to tolerate, but Sam also knew that he couldn't put off looking for his brother forever. Even though he was easily the happiest he had ever been in his life, a cloud still followed Sam wherever he went; it was oppressive and Sam knew he couldn't ignore it—not for long. _His brother needed him._ Every time he had been out from under his brother's protective eye, he'd ended up making REALLY bad decisions (_sleeping with Ruby, drinking demon blood, going on ass-minded revenge tours)_…Sam knew he needed his brother, just as much as his brother needed him, and as unhealthy as it may have seemed at times, it wasn't NEARLY as unhealthy as when they were apart…

Morning arrived, and Dean stirred from his sleep, waiting for the signal that vomit was on the way or not. After a few minutes of nothing more than regular ol' morning cottonmouth, he decided to risk a trip upright to the bathroom. He sat up. No dizzy head. Good sign. Sam was exiting the bathroom, hair wet, covered with a towel.

"Mornin'."

Dean nodded in reply. There was something wrong with Sam. There was a fear in his voice, a sad one, an agitation that Dean recognized within milliseconds. Sam was scared shitless, and neither one of them knew what any of this was about yet. Dean knew one thing about fear, though —it was contagious and neither couldn't afford for both to be afraid. He decided to wait things out and make a plan after Cas arrived.

"You didn't use all the hot water did you?"

Sam raised his eyebrows, then smiled in an attempt to add levity to the morning. "Maybe. I'll make some coffee to warm you up."

"Anything sweet down there would be good, too."

Dean entered the bathroom and for a moment, glanced in the mirror. Yes, there was definitely a small swell right under his belly button. His brow furrowed and he rubbed it with his hand. It wasn't hard or anything, and it didn't hurt. _More salad. I hate salad…_

After he was finished, he put on his favorite pair of hunting jeans and strolled downstairs. Well, they _used_ to be his favorite hunting jeans. Sam must have put them in the dryer on HIGH HEAT and shrunk them. Dammit. But, the coffee smelled wonderful and Sam stood at the stove, making eggs for himself and on the table, a cinnamon sticky bun that looked fresh out of the oven.

"Awww…look at you! Best Little Brother in the World! Ha ha!" Dean sat at the table hungrily and began to devour the poor thing like it had wronged him somehow, leaving icing on his face, dripping down his unshaven chin and onto the front of his shirt.

Sam looked at Dean, amused. "That bun have too many moving parts for ya?"

Dean looked up and licked his fingers. "Tastes like more."

Sam, as good at predicting his brother as was the reverse, opened the toaster oven with another. Dean smiled.

"We gotta talk about Cas," he started, suddenly sober.

"Yeah, I know," Sam replied, setting his coffee and eggs down on the table. "I have wracked my brain all night. I know they know we're close to the second trial, but why would angels want us dead, too? It doesn't make sense." Remembering his little find from the research last night, he asked, trying _really hard_ to mask his apprehension, "How do you feel today?"

"Okay, I guess…I didn't puke. I had heartburn like a mother fucker last night, though. I'm actually starting to feel better."

Another beautiful thing about Sam Winchester is his ability to remember the small things—the things that most folks just forget or don't pay attention to in the first place. After he'd found the information on symptomfinder, he'd researched pregnancy, right down to creating a fake name and registering with a pregnancy calendar, then reading about all the symptoms that arrived with each advancing week. Dean sparked his memory with his last statement. At some point the moms-to-be reported feeling better and that the nausea and tiredness were ebbing some, but then heartburn started…oh, boy…_Dammit, where the hell was Cas?!_ He refocused at the ridiculousness of his train of thought and smiled sheepishly at his brother and returned to his eggs.

Dean pointed at Sam with his fork. "We need to get Kevin here. To stay. With his mother."

Sam nodded in agreement, then both heard a flutter of wings and Cas was at the table with them.

He looked briefly at them. "Good morning."

"Cas."

None of the three of them spoke for a full minute.

"You look rested," Dean started. "And shaved. Nice. Good job. You don't smell anymore either."

Cas didn't acknowledge the comment, which really wasn't unusual for him, but it didn't put the men at ease. Dean took a deep breath and started.

"Alright, Cas. You got us here. Angels and Demons are on our asses, you're hiding things in people and running around putting out fires and covering tracks, would you please shed a little light?"

"Yes." Then nothing.

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

"I don't know how to start," Cas stated, not looking at either brother. "I just want you both to know I did what I did to protect you both. And the future." He didn't look up until he finished the last word, then looked both brothers in the eye.

Dean sighed. Sam was silent. "Just start from the beginning, Cas. The suspense is killing us here."

Cas looked at Sam. "Do you recall the night Dean and yourself celebrated together after your weekend with Charlie?"

"Um, yeah. We went out for a few beers. Dean left. I went back. End of story."

"Sam, that's not the end of the story. It's the beginning."

Sam thought for a minute, then his eyes widened.

Dean was thoroughly confused. "Wait. You went back?"

"Yeah, well, I carried you back to the room, dumped you on the bed and came back."

Dean tilted his head. "Okay."

"And you met a young woman at the bar."

Sam nodded. "Her name was-."

"Lailah."

Sam shook his head in agreement. "Yes. Lailah."

"And you had relations with her."

Sam blushed.

Dean looked at his brother, grinning from ear to ear. "Atta boy, Sammy! I thought I'd have to call up a monkery in China somewhere soon."

Sam rolled his eyes at this brother, then stared him down.

"She conceived that night."

Both men stopped the staring contest and met Cas' face, shocked into silence. They met each other's eyes again, shifted in their seats, took audible deep breaths and returned their attention to Cas.

Dean looked back at his brother. "Didn't I tell you make sure your little purple warrior had his helmet on before sending him to the front lines? Dumbass."

"Dean, first, he's not 'little', and second, REALLY?! Pot. Kettle. Black."

Anxiety rising, as well as the hair on his arms and neck, Sam covered his mouth with his hands and rose from his chair, then he ran his hands thorough his hair and poured another cup of coffee.

"Okay. Where is she, how do we protect her and what does this have to do with what's going on now?"

"She was…an angel."

Dean looked at Cas and then his brother, mouth agape. "Wait. She was an angel? And did you say, 'was'?

"Yes. When the garrison discovered that she was pregnant, they formed a plan to assassinate her."

Sam was visibly shaking now. "She was carrying a nephilim."

"Yes."

Dean was trying desperately to clear his head. "A half-human, half-angel baby."

Cas continued. "Yes. She was the Patron Saint, if you will, of reproduction and fertility, but she had never birthed."

"So she had a case of 'always a bridesmaid, never a bride,' and came down here to get pregnant?"

"More like 'always a virgin, never a mother,'" Cas replied. "She knew that this would put a target on her back, but she wanted it anyway. She knew the product of conception would also be a target, but she thought she could protect them. Like any mother would. There have been nephilim in the past. Some angels fear that they are a threat, an abomination. They're powerful, and are favored of God. I intervened."

"How, Cas? How did you intervene?" Sam asked softly, almost choking on his words. _This can't be good._

"I couldn't save her. I got there seconds too late. After the angels left, I went to her body and they were still alive."

If Sam Winchester was anything, he was an analyst and he was able to deduce facts with little contributory information, and these tendencies only became more honed as his stress level rose. These were the gifts that made him a hunter with such a prolific dossier of kills. The ability to figure things out-before they happened. The pieces came together quickly, as fast as the bile rose in his throat.

_Nausea._

_Vomiting._

_Fatigue._

_Mood swings._

_Sensitivity to certain smells._

_Weight loss, then gain._

"_Oh, God."_Sam's legs wobbled and he sat down roughly in his chair.

Dean, noting the absence of color in his brother's face and stepping into _guardian_ position, asked Cas, "Okay, so, where are they now? They? You did say, 'they' right? So there's two? We have to get them. They're family, Cas! We can't leave them to die!"

Sam wretched.

"Yes. There are two. Twins. I had to hide them."

Dean's eyes met Sam's.

"I hid them in you."


	5. Chapter 5

Salt of the Earth Chapter 5

"Oh, fuck…"

"In me…he hid them _in me_." Dean looked at Sam.

When Dean felt like he could breathe again, he swallowed, and looked down at his stomach, putting his left hand over the area where he felt the small swell before his shower. _He didn't shrink my jeans.  
In me._

Sam sat across from him. He looked green. All he felt like he could do was stare.

Cas sat looking at both of them.

"Um, so they're inside me…temporarily?! Their souls, right? There's no way they're gonna grow in there, right? Come on, Cas, gimme somethin' here!"

"No, it's the whole deal, Dean, babies need a place to grow."

"Okay, yeah, I get that—why me? There are plenty of healthy females out there—two right here in this supernatural _Eden_, and you're telling me they're inside me? "

"They were looking for a female, not a male, so it was the safest place to hide them. I can't do it, neither can Sam, because of the trials. You were the best option. You're brilliant and strong and wise. The best chance they have—of survival-is you. Only you."

"We're safe now, right? I could function better without the—compromise... I'll hunt anything coming our way. Can't you work your angel mojo and get these little buggers in a girl? Preferably a cute girl?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible. They've already bonded to you. It might have been possible earlier, but it's been too long now. They can't be moved. It would kill them. The good news is that there won't be any outward signs of pregnancy-."

"Wait, Cas—Wait. Do NOT use that word. I'm not, prrrre-." He inhaled sharply and the resulting exhale blew out his cheeks. "That happens to chicks. I'm a dude. ALL dude. I'm a—a host. Yes. I'm a host. Do NOT use that word when you refer to me. Ever."

"-You'll feel everything, but no one will be able to see anything. Except me. And you."

Dean held his breath again, then cleared his throat. "Next question. Probably the most obvious," he continued, running his hand over his face. "I'm pretty sure I don't want to know this…How are they going to get out? As long as I've known myself, I'm sure I'm not able to…give…birth…and when? And how will I know?"

"Typical gestation in a human female is 40 weeks, so I would assume it would be the same for the vessel Lailah used. According to that and the date of conception, I would say 14 weeks, 2 days. They will need the labor process as part of their human delivery. The most important thing at this time is that you cannot, _cannot_, leave this ranch. You cannot risk an attack. Not now, not even for a minute. You either, Sam."

Sam looked up and nodded, still quiet and pensive.

"As for the answer to your question. They'll come out the same way they went in."

"In her, or in me?"

"In you."

Dean let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Oh, thank God."

Dean then focused his attention on Sam, who was, by the way, still green. He smiled. "I'm having your baby."

Sam just stared blankly at his brother. What was up with this? Did Dean not get the gravity of the situation? They were going to be parents…of angels. _Angels_…

"Dude, we're safe. This isn't ideal, but we're safe."

"I-I know," Sam started, "I just don't think it's ever going to be that simple. It never is for us."

"We'll cross bridges as they come, Sam. Come on! You're gonna be a dad! Hell, I'm gonna be a dad! We'll be the coolest dads on the block—."

"Dean…they're half angel. _Half_. Do you really think they're going to have a normal life?! And what about you? You're the toughest guy I know, but you're heading for shit you can't even fathom. You're pregnant-.""

Dean issued an 'I'm gonna kill you with my bare hands,' face before Sam continued.

"With your brother's baby…er, babies. And you're a guy…A guy, Dean! You don't sit to pee! How are we gonna explain that to them?!"

"Wait. Let's clarify something…again for you, shortbus…I am NOT pregnant. That's for women. I'm…a _host_…yeah—a _HOST_…Sammy, listen to yourself! You have been wanting this for years! And now it's happening! Come on, man! It's our biggest adventure yet!" Dean's eyes suddenly rolled into his sockets, his legs started to shake, and he started to go down, that is, until Cas caught him mid-fall. Sam leapt from his seat and seemed like to Dean that he went _through_ the table instead of around it, and was immediately by his brother's side. "Holy shit," he croaked, clinging to Cas with one hand and Sam's with the other, "Oh, fuck…Sam, this was on my bucket list and all, to see you with kids, but this soooo isn't the way I imagined it. Not at all…"

Sam smiled uncomfortably at Dean, and then felt himself being pulled up and cradled by Sam. "Come on, Dad, upstairs with ya."

Cas followed the two upstairs and watched as Sam laid his brother on his bed. As Sam tried to step away, Dean caught hold of his shirt and pulled him close. "I'm sorry, Sam.'

"There's nothing to be sorry for."

Dean looked at him and instantly made his heart wrench. "I'm scared. This is crazy shit, huh?" He tried to smile, but it ended up looking more like he was pleading or begging for bravery. He glanced down at his torso and put his hand on it, and then looked at his brother and issued an uncomfortable smile. "How are we gonna do this?"

"Yeah. We'll do it like we always do. Together. We'll come up with something. "

Cas stepped closer to the two. "I need to meet with the family."

Sam stood up. "I'll go with you."

"Wait. I will, too," Dean started getting up from the bed.

Sam stopped him and pushed him downward into the bed. "How about not, yo." _Fathers are supposed to protect, right?_

Cas headed to the door. "I'll bring them here. You two wait." Then he was gone, leaving the two stunned brothers to wonder on their own what the future would bring.

They sat there for some time, not saying a word to each other. The anxiety was palpable, and every now and then Dean would look at his belly and put a hand on it.

Sam spoke up first. "Dean, the only thing I have to say is we don't need to be doing anything crazy right now. We have to weigh everything. We need to hunker down and make sure you're healthy. And we need time to adjust."

Dean said nothing, but nodded in agreement. He looked worried and tired.

"Why don't you try to rest, dude?"

"Nah. I'm fine."

"Can the bravado, Dean. This is nuts." Sam glanced out the window and saw Susanna, Abby, and who he presumed to be their father approaching the house. "They're here." He reached over to grab Dean by the upper arm for support and was met with an indignant stare.

"I'm not crippled."


	6. Chapter 6

Salt of the Earth Chapter 6

A/N: I kinda picture Abby and Susanna's dad looking like J.K. Simmons (the dad on Juno / the Farmer's Insurance guy) just to help convey the image I have in my head. ..

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

"Hey, Sam, what do you think he's gonna say? You think he's gonna sell me out? I mean, it's not like I want these girls and their dad to know I'm, you know…a host…"

Sam stopped midway down the steps and turned around to look at his brother, then looked away. "We gotta trust that he'll make the right decision, Dean, I mean, it's not like you're wearing a scarlet letter or anything, you know?"

"Yeah, but they're cute girls…"

"Oh, for crap's sake."

They slowly made their way down the rest of the steps and out the door to join the group of four on the porch. They greeted the girls and their dad with the customary handshake and morning greetings. The owners wanted to respect that this was the men's home for now and to walk in, even though they owned it, would have been presumptuous and insensitive. Dean sat on the bench swing, and the others sat on the wicker furniture arranged in a semi-circle facing the ranch, which was bustling with activity. Sam could see people, who he assumed were hunters as well, entering one of the barns not far from the house, others bailing hay and even more feeding pigs and chickens. He thought he could see for miles, even though the land was hilly. He could see the dew sparkling on the grass from the morning sun, it came up later nowadays because of the season. It made him want to take a run and explore the rest of the farm.

Castiel cleared his throat and started to speak. "Anse, ladies, these men I brought to you are in the process of-completing something-_worthwhile_ to both Heaven and man, and require your protection and all that this land offers. I need to address all your volunteers immediately. How soon do you think you could gather them in the Community Hall?"

"You have a community hall? On the grounds? Wow! I love this place already! You have a bar, too?" Dean asked smiling.

Anse looked at his daughters and then to Dean. "Do we have a bar." And then he smiled. "Boys, we're gonna need your help. Consider this your first job. We have 433 volunteers on this farm and only one way to get them all to meet. Plus, you'll get to know the farm. Susie, you take Sam, and Abby, go with Dean. Tell them we'll meet at noon. Got it? Castiel and I will get the rest."

Abby stood up. "You know how to ride a horse?"

Dean looked around, wide-eyed. _Can a pregnant man-er, HOST, ride a horse? _ "Um, I prefer horses with wheels. Where's my car, anyway?"

"I took the liberty of bringing it here. It's in the barn on the east side of the ranch," Cas said.

"Did—you—drive it?" Dean asked, standing up.

Cas smiled at him, then giggled out loud. "No. I knew better."

Dean grabbed his shoulders and looked at him straight in the face. "Good man, er, angel. Best one ever. Let's go."

He and Abby headed off the porch, and walked towards a beat up '66 Chevy C-10 pickup truck and jumped inside. Sam and Susanna went in the opposite direction. Anse turned to Cas, concern reflecting in his face. "So, you gonna let me know what's going on with these guys, or what?"

"It's…how do you say? Complicated."

"Hm," Anse mumbled, nodding his head. "So they're not just tired hunters, or hiding from something, or carrying some horrible secret that's gonna destroy all humanity, right? It's gotta be all three?"

"I'm afraid so, well, not destroy all humanity. They're saved it a few times." Cas said. "They're Winchesters."

"Ah! Alrighty then," Anse exclaimed, nodding his approval. "We'll make this work."

At noon the community hall was standing room only, full of cranky volunteers who wondered why they had to stop their morning duties for a meeting. There were rows of chairs set in order and Sam wondered how they accomplished this so quickly. There was a small stage with a podium at the front. The entire building was constructed out of wood, he assumed, harvested when the land was cleared, probably close to 300 years ago. The workers weren't mad at anyone, but this was a rare occurrence, and there were several indistinct conversations occurring that he couldn't quite make out. He knew that he and Dean were the cause of much speculation about the purpose for gathering, judging from the stares and suspicious looks that were directed at them. Sam took some time to scope them out, as well. There wasn't a familiar face in the crowd, but he knew these expressions well. They were burnt out, tired hunters that had seen and experienced trauma. Some of them had lost family members. Some had lost body parts. Most were gray-haired men and some women. Some looked as young as he and Dean. To his surprise, there were _children_ there. They were of all different ages from infants to teenagers. Most of the older ones seemed aware of the nature of the ranch, and watched after the little ones while their parents prepared for whatever news was to be delivered.

Much to Sam's surprise as well, it seemed like there were—unnatural, supernatural beings here. His spidey-sense was tingling, as it were, and he moved a little closer to his brother. "That woman, in the third row, is a witch," he said quietly. "Look at her tattoo. And look over in the corner." He nodded in the direction of an unusually pale, tall, blond man standing in the corner. "Something's up with him."

Dean was studying the audience, as well. He saw a familiar face, no, two, furrowed his brow, and looked at Sam. "Is that Robert Plant and Jimmy Page?"

Sam glanced at the pair of men for just a second, so as not to stare. "No, it can't be."

"Indeed it is," Anse interrupted. "You really didn't believe that they trashed hotel rooms just for the heck of it, did ya? They were attacked pretty much on a regular basis! Stairway to Heaven almost bought them a one-way ticket in the opposite direction."

Dean giggled. "They got it all backwards, huh?"

Cas stepped up to the microphone and began to speak. The room was instantly silent and all attention focused on him. Sam and Dean never realized that he was a great orator, that he had spoken to his garrison for a millennia, providing them with motivation and enthusiasm for any order they needed to carry out or battle in which they needed to engage. "Thank you for leaving your work to attend this meeting. I know how important this place is to all of you, but, my friends and I need your help and compliance with the expectations I am going to give you. I have taken the initiative to provide additional protection for this land. I have chosen angels who I know are trustworthy to assist me with the task at hand. You need to know this will not impact your daily lives, or your freedom, but I require you to allow me to discern the angels you invite in, as well as any supernatural beings, until further notice. These men," Cas pointed to Sam and Dean, "need your assistance for their protection. I have known many of you and have always fought to provide you with the rest you need to rejuvenate and protect your families. This time, these men need you to take an active role in protecting them. I realize that no evil may enter this place, but there are supernatural beings who would cause them harm, and may enter here under the guise of neutrality or support. Please allow me to do my job and protect them, as well, and you. I brought them here because of you. All of you. You are trusted friends and I know you'll help them. Thank you."

Sam and Dean looked blankly at the room, as most of the attention in the hall was focused on them, with a quiet muttering of wonder. They were talking amongst themselves when Anse stood up.

"Please welcome these fellows with the respect and affection we've shown everyone in the past, you guys. Their duties will be assigned today, and they'll start working tomorrow." He looked at a gray-haired, pot-bellied short man in the front row and addressed him. "Bob, I know you've been looking for someone to help you with the machinery here, and the cars. Dean here is quite the mechanic from what I hear, and Sam—what is it exactly that you do? Nevermind, son, we'll find you a spot," he said, addressing both the audience and the new men. "Thanks, everyone. If you have any questions, you know where I'm at."

Bob approached the brothers and reached out his hand to shake. He looked at Dean started informing him of the differing problems he's had with some of the machinery around the farm. Dean told him about his Baby—the Impala one, that is, and Bob revealed he enjoys riding bikes—the motorized ones. It looked to go well that he and Dean would get along.

Susanna approached Sam, seeing his 'out of placeness,' and asked him if he wanted to see some of the ranch. He agreed and they walked off, exiting the hall and walking down the path that led to the business part of the farm.


	7. Chapter 7

Salt of the Earth Chapter 7

"So, none of these people get paid here?" Sam asked as he and Susanna walked.

"Nope. Volunteer. Everyone has a function. When we get people at the gate that want in, we talk, see what they can or are willing to do, and in exchange, they get safety and peace. It's not much of a trade-off, if you ask me. Especially with what we deal with outside of here."

"I wonder why we never heard of it. I mean, we have seen and met and helped dozens of hunters, and none ever even mentioned this place. Both of us could have used it."

Susanna looked at him. "There's lotsa different opinions on this place, from what I hear. Some hunters think it's necessary, others think it'll make you rusty and you lose the instinct to be a hunter. Some 'vacation' here, others come and we never see them again, and others have decided to stay."

"I thought I saw some other—people—here, too."

"Yeah, there are. Don't be afraid of them. Most of them have lived here longer than anyone here has been alive. Did you see the tall, blond guy in the corner at the meeting? He's a vampire, but he's so old he doesn't really even need blood anymore. Plus, he's a different breed from most of what anyone in this generation has ever experienced. He provides us with the monetary needs of the ranch, as well. And he's a distant relative. About 20 generations ago."

Sam seemed genuinely surprised at her candor. "What else is here?"

"We have witches that don't want to practice any more. They had to turn over all their recipes for disaster, charms and grimoires before they entered. Then we burned it all. We have a few shapeshifters and weres, but they're harmless, too. The shapeshifters just prank. Usually on April Fools' Day. I know you're probably not comfortable with this, but, like I said, it's safe. If they are caught practicing or using their powers for bad things, they are escorted off the property and they're not allowed back in. Ever. Many of them left the life because they were in some kind of trouble or pissed off the wrong person, so on the outside, it's pretty bleak for them. It's all good. I promise."

They stopped outside of a small barn. "This is the funnest place on the farm, Sam. It's the nursery."

"Nursery?"

"Yep," she said with a smile, and opened bottom of the Dutch door.

Very quickly and without warning, tiny baby goats ran out of the door and into a fenced area. Sam thought he must have counted about 50. He immediately grinned and laughed out loud at their antics. They climbed everything they could jump up on, butted each other, and jumped in the air like there were springs in their little legs. Susanna strolled up beside him. "See that little one there, the brown one? I call her Buttercup. She's my favorite. She's just so bad. Watch her for a minute."

Sam watched as Buttercup ran into and out of the barn, jumping over several of her peers, and them jumping off them, knocking them over. Sam began to belly laugh like he'd just pulled the Sans Pareil prank on Dean that he would never recover from.

"Oh, my gosh you look like you needed that!" Susanna exclaimed, laughing herself. "This is where I work, if you're interested."

"Absolutely!"

They visited the burial ground and the pastures, the milking area and slaughterhouse (NOT Sam's favorite), and church—yes, there was a church with another community hall and pavilion and outside meditation center, it was then that Sam knew he would frequent this place often as he continued in his Men of Letters career. He'd never known a peace like this. He was in a community of people who he could relate to, share with, and develop relationships that had the propensity to outlast the latest hunt. And he certainly didn't mind the female company.

Every family had their own home, some lived in duplexes. There were some cliques, but they existed only because of territory and proximity to each other. Susanna acknowledged there were personality conflicts at times, but they occurred mostly between newcomers or the younger hunters "who were still full of piss and vinegar." She added that it's nice to see "Human problems instead of ghost ones." Sam agreed.

Afternoon had arrived, and Sam was curious to know how the majority of Dean's day went and how he was feeling. It had been a day since they found out about the soon-to-be Winchesters, and quite frankly, it was a nagging concern for Sam that Dean was going to struggle with this more than he would ever let on. His brother was accustomed to being physically capable, powerful, and agile. That would eventually fade as the condition progressed. Dean wasn't used to not feeling well or having to sleep. He certainly wouldn't like the swollen ankles and fingers, and feet that wouldn't fit in his own shoes anymore. He also wished that he could share in this experience a little more. Cas did say that Dean would feel everything, but only he and Cas could see it…this left Sam feeling like a third wheel, even though he was the biological father of the children. He also wondered about their genetic makeup…he thought his head would explode over that one…

He smiled at Susanna and she rubbed his upper arm and winked as they parted in front of her house. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said.

Sam headed up the front steps and into the front door. He found Dean, sitting on the plaid couch in the living room watching tv, eating an egg, American cheese and pickle sandwich—with mustard. Two, to be exact.

"Hey. How was your day?" He said, sitting on the highback chair beside him.

"Okay, if you consider learning how a combine runs exciting."

Sam smiled. "I got to play with baby goats."

Dean looked at this brother, mouth full of egg and bread, with a little mustard droobling out from the corner of his mouth. "You got to do what?"

"Play with goats. Little baby ones. They're tiny and they're bad. "

Dean did his best puppyface. "I wanna play with goats-!"

"We have a long time to be here, brother. How you feeling?"

"Like a have a small bowling ball in my gut. My back aches, and I thought I was gonna puke on Bob's shoes."

Sam tried his best to be empathetic. "That sounds awful."

"It is. I don't know how women do this. More than once, even. Did you know there's a woman who had 19 kids? 19! She did this-(he pointed towards his stomach)..NINETEEN times!"

"Yeah—I think they had a tv show."

"So all of America could watch her womb spill out during Thanksgiving dinner. Maybe she couldn't feel it or something after, like, the twelfth one. Maybe she dragged it behind her to the grocery store."

Sam snorted. "Did you just say 'womb'?"

Dean scowled.

"Have you talked to Bob about who else lives on this ranch?

"No. Just combines. I made two of these sandwiches for you. They're in the oven staying warm. They're the shit, man, really. Freaking amazing."

Sam smiled as best he could, nonverbally expressed gratitude, fetched the meal, and choked down one sandwich as best he could. His saving grace came as a knock at the door.

It was Abby. "Hey, me and Susie are having a fire. Wanna come over and down a few?"

Sam glanced at Dean. It was obvious that the spirit was willing but the flesh was weak. He looked exhausted, but he agreed to come, encouraged by Abby's smile.

They walked over to the girls' house and into the backyard. It was obvious that their father reserved the best house on the land for his girls. It was a huge, old farmhouse with gingerbread woodwork and big shuttered windows and a wrap-around porch.

"Looks like something I saw under a Christmas tree somewhere," Dean whispered to Sam.

The girls sat in their lawn chairs around a stone fire pit. The orange glow of the flames flickered and danced, lighting the girls' faces in a comforting autumn hue. The logs were pine and snapped and crackled and popped, sending tiny bits of smoldering ash into the air and releasing an aroma that was the herald for colder days to come. Dean couldn't help but admire the smell. At least at this point_. It didn't smell like dead._ He appreciated that.

Abby came over carrying two beers and handed them to the men, now sitting alongside them around the pit. The brothers exchanged glances and it was understood between the two that Dean would pull a few fast ones to not-show the girls he wasn't drinking it.

They talked and laughed for a while about hunts and awkward moments ("Yeah—the ghost had a gay thing for Susie,"), and creatures they hunted. Surprisingly, there was little that each offered that the others hadn't seen. Dean decided he needed to take a timeout, go to the bathroom and dump some beer. He asked politely where the bathroom was, and entered the house, alone.


	8. Chapter 8

Salt of the Earth Chapter 8

Dean entered the house and followed Abby's directions to the bathroom. The home was dark but beautifully decorated and, for a moment, he thought of what his mom might think of it. The décor was largely Victorian, with lacey doilies and fancy clawfoot chairs with designs on the upholstery. Flowers and plants were everywhere. Oriental rugs covered the parquet floor. The interior wall of the living room was covered in pictures of what he assumed were relatives and recent purveyors of the land and others of import to the family. The frames were ornate and he thought, probably expensive. He turned down the hallway to the bathroom, and entered, noticing an extremely large highboy at the end, and admired the effort it must have taken to get it in the house. It had to be solid wood, and took some serious muscle to move it. After taking care of business and emptying some of his beer (to come back with an empty beer he thought may have been too obvious), he exited the bathroom.

It was then that he was pulled out of the doorway by his collar, and so violently slammed against the opposite wall that he thought he would have to pay for the damage. He grabbed the hands that were holding him and attempted to fight back, only to realize that the hands and the attached body were solid and cold.

"What are you doing here!? Where are the girls!?" The person holding him growled. Because of the virtual absence of light at this angle, he couldn't see who was holding him. Dean could feel breath on his face, and it had an odd scent to it, but one that was not unfamiliar. For only the second time in his life, he was paralyzed with fear and unclear about his next move. His concern was not unfounded—he was the carrier of his brother's children and knew instinctively that he couldn't take his regular beatings and expect to carry them to term.

Just then, Abby rounded the corner in a rush, feet sliding across the floor, "Gael!" She yelled, "Stop! He's with me!"

Before Gael could drop his brother, not saying a word, Sam charged through the room, past Abby, and seized the stranger, pushing him effortlessly across the room to smash against yet another wall and knocking a dry sink and pitcher to the floor. The rage in his eyes was untenable until he felt his brother's grip on his pantleg, begging for help to a standing position.

Abby stood for a second with both hands over her mouth as Susanna showed up in the room. "Oh, my," she muttered. "Is everyone okay?"

Abby rushed to Gael's side, helping him up, as well. They looked to each other, and then to the brothers. She kept her arm across Gael's chest in an attempt to stay between him and her visitors.

Sam began to softly speak between snarling lips. "Keep your hands off my brother." His fists were clenched and he stepped between Dean and the now standing Gael, whose lips were pulled back into a threatening grimace with his fangs bared and both Sam and Dean could hear him growling.

"Guys? Um, this is Gael. He lives here…downstairs." Susanna said tentatively. "He's…protective."

"He's our relative," Abby added, holding onto Gael's right arm.

"And a blood-sucking vampire," Sam stated, alarm and hostility remaining in his voice.

Dean noticed he was holding his breath. _Wow…that was a close one…_His hand moved over his stomach. _No pain_…

Gael calmed and retracted his fangs. He spoke nothing for a second, as if he was attempting to regain control yet still remain vigilant in protecting the girls.

"I pose no threat to you."

"Really? You had my brother pinned against a wall. I saw your fangs-."

"I was surprised. To see someone here. I'm sorry." Gael turned to the girls with a slight nod and said, "I should be on my way. I'll be back soon." He turned to look at Dean. "I apologize." With that, he disappeared in a blur.

The four stood in the room for a few seconds, unwilling or unable to make eye contact with each other.

"Dean? Are you okay?" Abby asked, walking slowly over to him. "You guys should probably know we're both nurses, too…someone has to take care of injuries here, ya know?" She ran her hands up and down Dean's biceps, attempting to comfort, and meeting his gaze. "Do you hurt anywhere?"

He reached his right hand to touch hers. "No, I'm good. No pain." He glanced at Sam to reaffirm to his brother that he was okay, and so were the babies, as far as he could tell. He smiled at her for a second. "Can we take a raincheck on the rest of the night? 4:30 comes early."

"Absolutely. Next time we'll let Gael know you're coming. I didn't even think of it. We don't usually get men coming here, especially after dark."

The men excused themselves and walked together towards their new home. They were silent for most of the way, until Sam spoke.

"I wonder why he was so alarmed if evil can't be here. I know this isn't Heaven or anything, but…"

Dean could see the wheels in Sam's mind turning, unsure of where they would take him, and he slowed his pace, slowing to a few steps behind.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. This whole incubator thing is freakin' me out."

Sam stopped midstep. "What do you mean?"

Dean stopped, as well, and turned to look at his brother, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know, man…I froze back there when he grabbed me. You know how long it's been since I did that? I was 8." He paused and then continued. "All I could think about was you, and—them, and I didn't know if I should try to fight and save them or fight and lose them. It's just fucked up. I don't want you to think I don't want to do this. I do. It's just scary."

"I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, Dean. Or them."

"I know."

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

The next four weeks passed without incident. The boys would see Susanna and Abby every day, and the relationships they were forming with them and others on the ranch were deepening. Sam and Susanna kept themselves busy feeding and caring for the baby goats and sheep and their mothers, while Dean and Bob busied themselves with mechanical repairs and maintenance of the crops. Dean was an excellent student, given his proclivity for machinery and understanding of how they worked. Everyone on the farm was impressed with their work ethic. Both men were able to mend their concerns with Gael, and, as a result, were able to see at least this vampire in a different light. They met a pair of fiery red-headed adolescent twin boys who kept the farm on its toes with their antics, quick wit, and propensity for switching roles when the situation called for it. According to Anse, their mother was the only one on the farm who could accurately tell them apart.

One morning while he made breakfast, Sam carefully observed Dean and his behaviors, and since there was no outward sign of how the twins were developing, he would ask his older sibling frequently of any changes in his body and how he thought the pregnancy was progressing.

"No, Sam, for the 98th time, I have not felt them move yet. And quite honestly, I think it'll freak me out. You can't see any of this, can you?

"No."

_Here it comes. Uh oh…he knows what this does to me. Dammit—puppy dog eyes…_

Dean looked in the mirror by the front door and rubbed his stomach, the curvature more evident, and frankly, it was freaking him out already. He wished he couldn't see it either…

"How's your back?"

"It's sore. All the time, except when I'm sleeping. I can't lay on my stomach anymore, either. Do I snore?"

Sam sat on the bed and chortled. "That's no different than any other time. You always snore. I wonder if you could hear the heartbeats yet."

Dean hissed and shot Sam a look he recognized immediately: freak out.

"God, this is getting real, isn't it? He turned away from his brother and wiped his face with his hand.

With a flutter of wings, Cas appeared with them. "Yes, you can hear the heartbeats. They actually can be heard by us as soon as the cardiac cells form and unite. That's when the guardian angel is assigned."

"There's real guardian angels?" Dean asked, feigning surprise.

Cas rolled his eyes. "Yes. You made yours retire."

Dean raised his eyebrows, then smiled. "Is there an angel 401k plan, too? We need to know this stuff. I must have kept him moving."

Cas just looked at him. "You wore him out. Sam, would you like to hear them?"

Sam's eyes widened with anticipation, so much that he wasn't able to answer without repeating it over three times. "Yeah, yeah, absolutely!"

"Way to go, little brother, freak out big brother just a little more this morning," Dean stated incredulously.

"Dean, lie down on your back," Cas commanded gently. "This isn't going to hurt."

Dean walked into the living room towards the sofa did as was instructed, albeit on shaky legs already. He felt like he needed to lie down.

"Lift up your shirt."

Dean pulled up his shirt, and as far as Sam could see, there was nothing different about his brother's abdomen. It hadn't been as lean as Sam's since Dean was in high school, but there was still as much muscle definition and tone as there ever was.

Cas placed his hand over Dean's navel and smiled. "They're growing nicely, and moving a lot. They're awake."

Dean clenched his teeth tightly. Fear was rising and it annoyed the hell out of him. How was he going to do this? _God, Sam was a challenge. This is really cool, but, holy fuck! There's actually babies in there! And they're awake?"_

"Cas? Can I hear them? Please?" Sam asked, kneeling down beside his brother.

Cas opened his mouth and instead of his voice, two tiny heartbeats were heard. Sometimes they would sync up for a beat or two, and then separate in their own tiny rhythm. The speed was furious and fast, and Sam finally realized the power of a soul. He put his hand over his mouth for a moment, feeling his eyes well up. _Those little hearts will beat for the next 90 years…and they're mine. Oh, my God…they're mine…they're mine…they're mine…_It was as if time was suspended and every little thump wound up and started over in a loop. He could have listened to this all day.

"Dean, take a breath," Cas whispered. "Calm." He took his hand off Dean's stomach and the audible heartbeats stopped.

Sam immediately turned his attention to his brother, who had covered his own eyes with his hands, making his expression unreadable. Sam judged by his breathing that it was definitely freak-out time. "Oh, shit, Sam."


	9. Chapter 9

Salt of the Earth Chapter 9

Sam, Dean and Cas sat for a moment. None said a word. Dean kept his hands over his eyes, deliberately attempting to hide his response. To have his emotions uncontrollable, he considered, was undue punishment for a crime he didn't commit. _God, there's babies inside me. Babies. And they're awake. AWAKE?! Do they hear me? Do they hear Sam? They're moving. God, I can't do this. I have to do this. It's for Sam. I'd die for him. I've TRIED to die for him. He needs someone for when I'm not here anymore. Someone to live for. Someone to pick up where I leave off. Okay. Freak out over._

Dean took a breath and laid his hands out to his side. "So, how often are we gonna have these little parties, huh? Can we find out what sex they are?" He sat up and put his feet on the ground, still sitting on the edge of the bed. "Can I have a party like the girls do? Get all kinds presents and stuff? And can we have pie instead of cake? I want pie."

Sam and Cas gazed at Dean, mouths open wide and speechless.

"What? In for a penny, in for a pound…"

Sam looked at Cas, who looked back at Sam. Neither said anything.

"Um…maybe once a month for a while. Then more often closer to the end." Cas answered tentatively. "I guess."

Dean took a breath, hiding his next freakout. "When would the end be? When will I feel them move? Any way you could kinda minimize that? At all?"

"They were conceived in late August, so mid-May would be considered full term. You should feel them move around what you would call Valentine's Day. And, no, I can't…numb you…to this. Since there's' two, you may feel them sooner, actually."

Dean mentally considered the date: the January 20th. Maybe three weeks from now he'd feel his nephews or nieces moving inside him.

Sam spoke up. "You okay?"

"Um, yeah, I think. I feel okay. I'm not really sick anymore-."

"Does anyone else on the farm know about this?" Sam asked, referring the question to Cas.

He shook his head. "No. I thought it best that no one knows specifics of your condition. Knowledge of it may open others up to manipulation should they go into the community. Or worse."

"Cas, you said something about a guardian angel when their hearts started beating. Is it you?" Sam asked.

"No. His name is Calliel. He has been assigned to both."

"Do we get to meet him? I dunno, accept his application or something?"

Cas smiled at the thought of Calliel sitting in an interview with Dean. "No. You'll see him when the time is right. He will reveal himself. Only the children will see him, but you'll know he's there. If he chooses to reveal himself to you, you'll recognize him. He's watching over them now."

"Great. My stomach is a fishbowl."

"Actually, they're lower in your abdomen still. The uterus has just moved up to-."

_FREAK OUT._

"Uterus?! Cas, you didn't say anything about ladyparts!" Dean stood up. "I CAN"T have ladyparts!"

_Can't breathe. Damn emotions. Where's the fucking paper bag?!_

"Dean, they're necessary for the babies to grow."

"What, am I gonna grow boobs, too? PLEASE Cas, tell me I'm not gonna grow boobs!? Oh, God, ah, ah, ah, Va-jay-jay?!" Dean's legs wobbled and gave out for the second time since all this started, and again, Sam caught him.

Not contributing AT ALL to Dean's comfort, he said nothing. After he looked at Dean, he looked up at Cas.

"No, Dean, you will not grow...breasts. Nor do you or will you ever have a…vagina. That is the correct word-."

"I KNOW WHAT THE CORRECT WORD IS, CAS!" Dean roared, holding his head above his ears on his head and beginning to pace back and forth.

"I told you that the babies would be delivered the same way they went in, and you said 'In her, or in me'? and I said, 'In you.'-."

"I know, Cas. I remember."

"You keep interrupting."

Sam decided to relieve his brother of the questions and the overflow of emotion. "So, the only thing he has is a…uterus…and nothing else…aaaaand I'm assuming all the other parts will stay in place?" he winced at saying this out loud. Maybe he should have waited until Dean wasn't around…

"Yes. And the uterus will disappear as soon as they're born. They'll be no signs of the pregnancy or birth."

Dean was sitting again. "Will it hurt?"

Sam paused for a second and studied his brother. His eyes were wide with fear. He'd been stabbed, thrown through the air, broken bones, eaten by hellhounds, and been the subject of torture a la Alastair, but never had he seen his brother this afraid. This wasn't a pain that Dean could relate to. The only other comparable pain, he recalled, was passing a kidney stone, and Dean hadn't ever done that, either.

"Yes, I'm afraid," Cas began. "You will labor as a woman would. They need to go through this process as humans. I'll be with you through it all. So will Sam."

"Any chance of an angelic epi—whatdayacallit?"

"Epidural," Sam chimed.

"No. I'm sorry."

Dean sat on the bed and hung his head for a second and sighed deeply.

"Better be a damn big party."

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

Both brothers left for work shortly after the meeting with Cas. Neither spoke to the other. They went through the day quiet as well, and apologized to their respective partners before signing off for the day.

When they met back at the house, they sat silent for a long time, each lost in their thoughts, channel surfing through game shows and primetime television.

Sam, his eyes never leaving the now-droning tv series, offered to cook. "You need to eat."

Dean drew in a breath. "Yeah, I guess I do. I just don't have much of an appetite."

Neither brother moved from their seats. It was as if they were partially paralyzed and glued to their chairs. The toll of an unexpected pregnancy was starting to show, and for the first time in a long time, they didn't know how to talk to each other.

Dean figured he would just start. _Gotta do it somewhere, right?_

"You ever been through this before?" Dean asked, again, his eyes not moving from the tv.

"What? No-I think. What do you mean?" Sam answered, lowering his brow in confusion. _No-  
I never got a guy pregnant, Dean…_

"I mean, you and Jess never had an 'oops, I forgot my pill' thing? Or, 'hey honey, I'm late.' ?"

"No. Well, maybe once. She was, like, four days late. We were both freaked out."

Dean nodded, setting his jaw to the side, considering how things might have been different for Sam from that moment on in his life.

"You'd have been a good dad."

Sam cleared his throat as he felt some kind of emotional release. The tension was still there, but it was lessening. At least he hoped.

"How about you and Lisa?"

"Nope. She already had one surprise. Didn't want another. We talked about it, and then…it just never happened." He smiled and looked at his brother, then shook his head. "We've been through _everything_, man. We've seen shit that would send priests to the loony bin, we've both been to hell and back, we've been dead, we've talked to angels and pulled an H.G. Wells—We've _t__ime traveled_! Why is this freaking us out?"

"Cuz it's normal. Well, kinda normal, given it's us. We didn't plan this. We weren't prepared. We're gonna be parents, Dean. We're gonna have to be responsible. And act like adults. I don't know what the first thing about what being a dad is. God, I can't imagine how you feel. All I know is that I don't wanna make the same mistakes dad did and you're my only guide. I'm scared shitless."

"We'll be fine," Dean said tentatively, trying to convince himself. "I guess. We just gotta be there for each other. We're both going batshit crazy. We gotta keep each other stable. If we can keep each other human, we can do this, right? There's a whole bunch of really nice people here, too. We're safe, they're safe. We gotta—pace ourselves—and not think too far ahead. At least for now."

Sam nodded and looked away until Dean grabbed him by the shoulders. "Sam, everything's gonna be alright. We got each other. You're gonna be a great dad. Cripe, I started at four years old and look at you! You're okay! You made it to adulthood, right? You're a _Stanford grad_. Granted, I wish I could've passed a little more of my appetite for junk food and hot women to ya, but you turned out, alright. A little nerdy, but I'm proud of you, you know?"

Sam said nothing, but wrapped his arms around his brother and stayed there for a moment. Characteristically, Dean hesitated for a second and then hugged his brother back just as tight.


	10. Chapter 10

Salt of the Earth Chapter 10

SALT OF THE EARTH—Chapter 10

Two weeks passed. Dean was unsure as to whether he was experiencing gas (not unusual) or movement. He kept up with his duties with Bob. He felt pretty good, actually. He'd felt like his energy had returned more so than in the past and he didn't feel like napping midday. He appreciated Bob's stories, too; the guy had been a prolific hunter in his time and decided to "retire," after a particularly heart-wrenching kill where he had to put a child vampire to rest. He said she couldn't have been more than 4 years old when she was made, and cried and cried when he put her down, and stated that he could still hear her in his sleep. Making a child a vampire was against the rules, and although older vampires had respected it, the newer ones didn't and believed they were creating the Master Hunter—an impulsive innocent that could kill without prejudice, just because they were hungry, and they could lure their prey much easier than haunting in a bar. Undoubtedly, there would be more. "We all have some we can't save," he said, "but when you line a little one up in your sights, the game changes. I hung it up after that. It's dirty and never-ending and I just couldn't do it anymore."

He caught himself watching Abby a little more often, when he could. He brightened when he knew that she would be around. He watched her play with the kids on the ranch and care for the sick. His curiosity and fascination with her wouldn't relent, it seemed, and his eyes gravitated her way no matter where she was in community functions. Big, family-style meals were every weekend and he swore his belly grew eight pant sizes in five days. _Not possible,_he thought, _is this normal? Holy shit!_ As it turned out, it hadn't grown eight pants sizes in five days, he just ate a lot. Sam would watch as he rubbed his midsection, oftentimes absentmindedly, and just smile.

He noticed Sam, too, paying close attention to Susanna. He would often see them "just talking," or sharing inside jokes and Sam would smile when he talked about her. It was refreshing to know that his brother regained some resilience in relationships, that he could still love even with his nasty history with women, and that maybe his brother actually found a girl he could share much more with than just a dog and a bed…

He and Sam awoke one morning, and as soon as they opened their eyes, they knew something was different at the farm. It seemed as if only half of the volunteers were working, and neither Susanna nor Abby was in sight. Sam advised Dean to stay in the house until he figured out what was going on, and Dean found himself submitting to his brother's will, not because he wanted to, but because of the tone his brother took with him: it was authoritative and commanding and didn't leave room for argument. It was an order. _Dads do that…_

Dean watched as Sam spoke to David, a forty-something guy who worked closely with Anse on the maintenance of the grounds and the security of the burial grounds. He saw Sam run his fingers over his face and through his hair and David pointing in the direction of a small group of houses across the way. It didn't look like a happy conversation. David's eyes were full of concern. He was usually a pretty jovial guy, always willing to laugh or share his alcohol. His beard was full, just like his belly, and was regarded as one of the most joyful givers on the grounds. He was always known to share in a happy "'Mornin' to ya!" to everyone he saw, even if it meant saying it a hundred times. It was difficult to imagine him being a monster-killing machine.

Sam walked back up onto the porch and through the front door where Dean was eagerly waiting for the news.

"What's going on?"

"Relax. It's not the girls. They're helping a lady have her baby and it's not going well, I guess. I dunno."

Dean pursed his lips. "Is there anything we can do?'

"I don't think so. I guess we just go to work."

They spent the majority of the day working alone. It wasn't easy, but they had gotten enough training to make it a productive shift. News of the difficult labor and delivery had been minimal, and by the end of the work day, they hadn't heard anything from the girls, Anse, or anyone else.

By nightfall, Dean's mind had been spinning all day, and he lost his battle with patience. "I need to find out what's going on. You coming?"

Sam looked at his brother, unsure of whether they should intrude.

"Alright. I'm going." With that, Dean walked out the door.

By the time Sam caught up to him, he was three quarters of the way towards the girls' home, heading in the general vicinity of the expectant mother's home. He couldn't tell what Dean was thinking, but knew his anxiety wasn't just for the baby being born. What he could clearly see was his brother's determination to find out the truth and do something about it, if he could. Dean was also never one to hide from his fears, although, in this case, Sam wasn't sure if facing them was the wisest option…

They arrived at the woman's home and were surprised to see so many other volunteers outside in the yard, on the porch and in and out of the house. Searching for a familiar face, Dean eyed the crowd and saw Gael, sitting in a dark corner of the front porch. He sat with his hands folded in front of him, his elbows on his knees and his head was down. He looked up at the brothers approached.

Dean's eyes were wide with concern. "What's happenin'?"

Gael sat up. "The baby's gone. Marisa hemorrhaged. I don't know more than that."

Sam took in a deep breath and puffed his cheeks. He made eye contact with Dean, trying to communicate some kind of comfort to his shocked and frightened brother. "I'm so sorry."

Gael looked up at him and nodded his head. "We all are. Thanks for coming."

Both had learned in the past weeks, even though their introduction to Gael had been a little rough, he actually considered the population of the ranch as his family. He shared joy with them, he grieved with them, and he protected them if the situation called for it. He was more human than some humans Sam knew.

Dean swallowed hard and looked around_. No monster problems, no possessions, no hunting, no evil, but grief still hits hard. Demons, I get…people problems are harder._

"Do you know where the girls are?"

"Abby's in the back. She wanted to be alone. Susie's watching Marisa." He looked at Dean. "You might be able to provide some comfort."

Dean turned to his brother and Sam nodded back. "Mind if I sit?"

Gael moved over and Sam sat with him. Neither spoke.

Dean rounded the back of the house and caught sight of Abby. She was sitting on a swing in the dark, wiping her eyes with a well-worn tissue. He knelt in front of her, and not saying a word, they embraced and held each other for what seemed like eternity, both holding on for dear life, both the lost and unborn.

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

The next few days were long and hard. There seemed to be a cloud over the ranch, and everyone who looked to the heavens struggled to see past the storm of grief. As much as Dean wanted to attend the funeral, he couldn't bring himself to look at the tiny casket, or the grieving mom. It was somewhat of a comfort that the little one didn't need to be salted and burned on this land. The blessing that covered it assured that the dead would truly rest in every meaning of the word.

Abby and her sister seemed to recover well, although at times Sam would catch them tearing up when they talked amongst themselves about the birth, what went wrong and what could have been done differently. The answer always was the same: nothing. Nothing could have been done any differently by Marisa or those who were responsible for her treatment. The girls were incredibly skilled at their trade—they were good nurses, had excellent training in both emergencies and midwifery.

Sam and Dean's concern over Dean's condition and the twins was more worrisome now than ever. Neither had considered the physical challenges and danger of their—predicament. Cas assured Dean that he was healthy, as were the children, and although the labor would mirror that of a woman delivering her first child (with the exception of the actual delivery), there was little chance of injury to either he or the babies, provided he stay on the ranch and maintain good contact with his brother and the angel.

Hiatus week was approaching fast, and the brothers found themselves in the midst of a celebration they had never been part of before. All but necessary work on the ranch was suspended, and the residents got down to good, old-fashioned baking and canning. This was bigger than Christmas, Dean thought at least once. All the ranchers had waited for this week all year long—the crops had been planted, grown, cultivated, and harvested, and now was time to rest and enjoy. The week ended with families hosting various parties and toasting and roasting each other, telling stories and laughing.

"Can I walk you home?" Dean asked Abby at the end of the night. He and Sam had stayed to help clean up after the meal and party for the kids.

"I'd have been mad if you didn't."

They walked arm in arm the whole way from the community center back to the girls' home, and when they arrived on the porch, Abby asked Dean if he would like to come in. Neither was ready for the end of the night to come.

Dean, during the past few weeks, had become more and more aware of his growing condition. His attraction to Abby was getting harder to delay, and especially since it was mutual.

"I gotta go," he smiled. "Frederick wanted me to give him driving lessons tomorrow."

"Frederick? The red-head? Are you crazy?" She giggled.

"Yeah, well, yeah, I guess. I taught Sam how to drive, and he was an exceptionally slow learner. I think I'll be okay."

They stood for a minute. Both drew in a breath. Neither moved, but somehow they ended up cheek to cheek, and Dean moved in for…

The twins. Dean lost his breath and moved his hand to his belly. There was no mistaking this…tumble he felt. It wasn't gas. It was bone and foot and hand and baby. He smiled, then looked into Abby's confused eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

Salt of the Earth Chapter 11

SALT OF THE EARTH—CHAPTER 11

"Is there something wrong?" Abby asked, unclear as why the moment she'd been waiting for was interrupted.

Dean remembered Cas' warning about not telling anyone about the pregnancy. "Nothin'. Um, nothing. I just, um, I don't know. I better get going." He was as confused as she was about this…situation…

As he went to turn around and walk home, Abby grabbed his hand and he swung around, right into her waiting lips. He caressed her hair and wrapped her in an embrace, fully aware that his options for having and maintaining a relationship would be a challenge, not only because he was awaiting the birth of the twins, but because he was a hunter. He couldn't afford the loss of another love, another relationship, another person in his life, or another death. Hunters lose a lot, and although they were forced by circumstance to respite, he knew that in his blood he would return to the road, and probably without Sam, now that he would be a dad soon.

He stood with her for awhile, cupping her face in his hands. He kissed her again, and silently turned down the walkway to his temporary home. The twins in his belly rolled and kicked. Yes, it did freak him out, yes it did make him want to run and hide, and yes, he had to tell Sam as soon as he got home. Sam, of course, was unable to feel any of the movements of his children, but brightened when Dean suggested that maybe Cas could act like a surrogate of sorts and Sam could feel the babies through him. First, Sam was amused, then he scrunched his face. "Ew."

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

There's no question that the brothers enjoyed the ability to sleep in during the hiatus. Dean awoke to the smell of bacon and sausage, and quietly considered that if Sam ever became a husband, his wife would be a damn lucky girl.

He wandered downstairs, following the scent.

"Good morning. You want some coffee?" Sam greeted, placing a plate full of Dean's favorites in front of him on the table.

Dean looked at his brother, nodded and smiled.

"I heard you had a potentially awesome night last night," Sam said, sitting at the table.

Dean raised his eyebrows and returned his brother's look. "Word travels fast, huh. Must have impressed her."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Maybe it's just cuz they're sisters."

Dean glanced at his watch and swallowed hard. "I gotta teach Frederick how to drive."

"Want me to go with?"

"You don't have to. I'll be fine. There's plenty of dirt roads here to find."

Sam looked over his brother as he got up to leave. "Please be careful."

Dean arranged to meet Frederick at the barn that Baby was housed in. He arrived a few minutes early, and stared at her like a starving man over a steak when he removed the tarp. "Hey, Baby, I've missed you so much. You have no idea." He then glanced in the back seat and wondered how two car seats would fit back there…

Frederick walked into the barn, smiling at the elder hunter. "I heard you love her. You're not gonna shag her, are ya?"

"Not in front of you. Come on."

Dean climbed in the driver's seat, and Frederick opened the passenger door. "When can I drive?"

"In a few. I gotta teach you some first."

He turned the key and listened to her roar to life. To be honest, as much as he loved his brother and not-loved Abby (_Too soon, brother, too soon and too much going on,_he said to himself over and over again in the last 12 hours), he wished he could fire her up sometimes and leave everything in the dust and come back when it was over. The truth was, he missed being on the road, and as dysfunctional as it was—the bad hotel food, having to poolshark for a meal or five, hearing cheating husbands in the next room (because listening would just be something a guy would never admit to)—it had brought a sense of familiarity he had grown up with and grown used to. Staying in one place for too long made him antsy. He likened it to an abused child returning to a drunkard of a parent _because they were used to it_ and the instability became the norm. Inevitably, his thoughts would turn back to his brother and his children and the need to protect and provide for them until Cas closed his eyes for the final time.

He talked to Fred about the need to listen to the car (a guy will always admit to that) because a sick car will always tell you what's wrong; they talked about shifting gears and defensive driving and what to do in a slide ("If you ever leave Texas, and you move up north where it snows, you gotta know how to drive when it's icy."). They talked about girls and friends in the car and when to say when ("I'm not telling you I've gone through this life lily-white, God knows there were times that I shouldn't of driven home, but I can tell you now, I wish I wouldn't have. Find a good co-pilot you can trust.").

They spent the better part of the morning and early afternoon driving around the farm, with Dean often thinking that Frederick's twin was next and Baby better hold it together. He apologized to her more than once during this excursion and promised her a nice bath and wax in return. They had taken routes that Frederick said he and his brother visited often, more remote places of the land where no houses stood and no crops grew. They talked about Frederick's life on the farm—he, his brother and their mother came to live on the ranch after their dad was killed by a rugaru and left them the coordinates in a letter to a place where they could "grow up, grow fat, and grow old."

Dean admitted to himself that the kid was pretty charming. He stopped the car, put her in park and opened the door. "Let's go. Switch me."

They exchanged seats firedrill style, and Fred jumped in the driver's seat. He looked at Dean. "Can I show you somewhere else?"

Dean nodded. "As long as it's on the farm. If I stay stop, then stop. K?"

"Aye, Captain!"

They drove off, slowly at first, and as Fred became more confident, Baby sped up. They arrived at the edge of a cliff, and the land was so flat from there Dean thought he could see for miles. It was beautiful. He closed his eyes and let the winter sun warm his skin for a second. It felt so good this time of year…the sky was clear and blue and the air smelled of burning wood. Dean Winchester didn't give much credence to the whole 'stop and smell the roses' thing very often, but when he did, he was grateful for the fleeting moments of stillness he didn't get enough of. He kept his eyes closed for a few more seconds, then thought to himself what a pansy he must look like to Fred, and when he opened them, his eyes dilated and his hair stood on end.

Crowley.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean swallowed and looked to his left. Three demons were restraining Fred, his eyes wide with fear and nonverbally communicating with Dean, "I didn't know!"

Pushing down his panic, he narrowed his eyes and focused on Crowley. "You're not welcome here."

"Oh, I know I'm not welcome over there," he pointed 20 feet behind Dean. "But here, I'm in the land of the free, I believe."

Dean watched as more demons appeared. He backed into Baby's hood, and stopped. He hoped that the twins wouldn't start squirming because of his anxiety. He didn't need the distraction.

"What do you want?"

"I think you know what I want. When are you going to stop assuming I'm stupid?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Let the kid go."

"Dean, Dean, Dean. Haven't I taught you—anything? Hasn't it ever occurred to you that I'm a celestial being, just like your little ape-loving boyfriend? I hear all kinds of things, even whispers, thoughts…and I know yours." Crowley looked at him dead straight in the eye. "Imagine the folly I had when you crossed that property line and I detected _four_ souls, not two." He smiled a sinister smile. "And I know exactly where they are."

Dean figured he was going to die. "Come and get 'em." If this was it, he was gonna make it epic.

"No, see, that's not part of the game. You're going to give them to me. In little pink and blue packages."

Crowley snapped his fingers, and all but the boy disappeared. He lay in the weeds, bleeding to death slowly from the blade lodged in his neck.


	12. Chapter 12

Salt of the Earth Chapter 12

Sam found himself becoming more and more concerned with Dean's absence as the time passed, and he was _damn near panic_ when the sun began to take its winter nap at 5pm. Dean wasn't answering his phone, and as he approached others on the farm for anyone who had seen him or Fred, more and more volunteers began to involve themselves in the search.

That's the way it is in a small community. Word travels fast. People rally and assume both active and supportive positions, offer to babysit, cook meals, grab their flashlights and traipse into the night not knowing what they will find. Neighbors call neighbors, and then two more, and then two more and form a well-oiled and organized machine that would rival any military base on the planet. By the time an hour passed, Sam, Anse and the girls has a veritable posse of 75 searchers ready, willing and able to find the lost men and bring them back to safety. They started with Fred's twin, Harry, first, who also joined the search, leaving his frightened mother with Marisa and a promise that he would bring his brother home.

It wasn't until morning that Anse received a call over his walkie that a group had found the Impala. They had found Fred, too. The poor lad was alive, but barely. And there was no sign of Dean. Anywhere.

Sam and Anse arrived at the site and the girls left with the ambulance. The nearest hospital was just on the other side of town, and they promised they would call with any news.

The men, along with others who arrived to join them, searched for clues as to Dean's whereabouts. They found no dust of unknown origin or sulfur, no hexbags or identifiable animal tracks. Dean had just—disappeared. There was no blood or remnants of his clothes. Sam's confusion as to why his brother would step off the property was answered when he picked up a wooden sign buried in the grass that said 'END OF PROPERTY DO NOT CROSS.' In a momentary loss of control and fit of anger, he heaved the heavy sign up over his head and repeatedly smashed it into the ground. Splinters of wood and bits of rusted nail burst into the air around him. On his final heave, Cas appeared and grabbed what was left of the post from behind, preventing him from swinging again.

He turned and faced Cas, his face red with anger and lungs filling and emptying with great amounts of air.

Every man stopped in his tracks, including Anse. No one moved.

"WHERE WERE YOU?!" He roared, demanding an answer from the angel.

Cas didn't answer and looked away from his friend. He was too filled with guilt over allowing possible harm to come to his Dean after being responsible for putting him in his current condition.

Sam, not calmed at all by the angel's response, grabbed Cas by the collar of his overcoat and almost lifted him into the air by his neck. Had he not been of the angelic persuasion, he might have suffered the same fate as the last item in Sam's hands.

Fatherly instincts kicking in, Anse decided to intervene at that point, and grabbed Sam by the shoulder firmly. "Calm down, son, no one's gonna get anywhere if we all lose it, and we all wanna."

Sam closed his mouth and looked around. The area was filled with men who had grown to know, respect and have affection for him and his brother. Bob was there, as well as David, all with worry etched in their faces. He saw hunters re-emerge from where cordial greetings and liquor-induced philosophical conversations originated less than 24 hours ago. All these men, filled with grim determination and instinct, were at the ready for the fight to bring Dean home. Oddly, he recalled the last movie he and Dean watched together—Battleship—and likened these men to the crew of the U.S.S. Missouri. He didn't doubt for a moment that they, combined, carried as much firepower.

Bob stepped forward and spoke first. "Don't worry, son, we're bringing him home. We all got alotta secrets and stories and experience to get him back, and we will."

Sam clenched his teeth in an attempt to force down the lump that was forming in his throat. He nodded in agreement, and looked at Cas. "What do we do now?"

"I'll search upstairs. I've not heard any information from the angels, but I'll try to get some."

"Would they tell you anyway? Didn't they want the babies dead?"

Anse's eyes opened wide as he lowered his eyebrows. "Babies? What—babies?"

Cas pursed his lips, again, then said, "Nephilum. Dean's carrying nephilim."

Anse stared at the men, unbelieving, while the additional men gathered around.

David took in a breath and looked around. "Well, that explains a lot. We better get moving."

Cas looked at Sam. "I'll be back."

Anse looked at both of them before Cas had a chance to exit. "We may not want anyone to know he's gone. I think I have a better idea." He reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out a small piece of paper and began to pen ingredients on it. "Bob," he cued, handing the list over. "Do your thing. The rest of you, follow me. Oh, and Sam, you might want to call your friend, Kevin. We're gonna need him, too."

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

When Dean awoke, he was strapped to an examination table. His arms were pulled far above his head and his legs were tied down, as well. He pulled against his restraints for a moment, testing their strength and trying to find a point where he could pull his arms free. He stopped when he felt the leather begin to cut the tender flesh of his wrists. Not that it ever stopped him before, but he didn't know if Crowley would just let him bleed out and take the babies anyway. He wasn't going to get away that easy. He refocused his attention to his precious cargo, and they were predictably awakened into a flurry of activity in his belly brought about by their hosts' stress level. _No pain ,_he thought. _The babies are still here. We'll be okay kids, Uncle Dean'll take care of this. Just gimme a minute._

Now that the interior check was done, Dean surveyed the room. There were no windows, only a couch, a chair, a table with another chair, and a refrigerator, and they were all bolted to the floor. The walls were tan-padded vinyl, like the kind you would see on the upholstery of a car. The floor was covered with industrial type carpet. Most notable, though, was the absence of a door. _No door means no way to get out._Dean imagined on the outside wall somewhere it said, ABANDON HOPE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE. _This is bad,_he thought. _This is really bad._

"CROWLEY!" he screamed. "Come in here, you pussy son of a bitch!"

"Ah. You're awake," Crowley greeted, appearing by Dean's side. He smiled the same sinister smile Dean saw before he passed out. "You know, I always knew you were a mother, but this?" He laughed some. "This is just beautiful."

"Go fuck yourself."

Crowley ran his finger from right under Dean's chin, down his chest, and over his belly. The hunter felt the babies freeze within him, and he struggled under his restraints to move away. The demon reached to just below Dean's navel, and pulled his shirt up over his stomach to his chest, spreading his hand wide open to feel the nephilim within. He pushed some, trying to feel their bodies inside Dean. The latter tried desperately to hide his discomfort and fear at the demonic intrusion. Dean felt a cramp starting.

"You know Sam is coming after me, and if he's coming after me, he's coming after you."

"You can call Big Brother all you want. As a matter of fact, you can call your boyfriend, too. No one can hear you, Dean. Except me."

Dean swallowed.

"Yep. No one knows where you are. And you can't be found. You're on your own. And you're mine. And they will be, too. You know, as much as I didn't want to be a father to that little bastard Gavin, I'm actually looking forward to this. Maybe I'll go shopping and buy matching outfits. I always liked The Shining. I might actually be able to use them."

"They're half angel, you stupid fuck."

Crowley came menacingly close to Dean's face and whispered. "We all are. Who's the dumb fuck now?"

He snapped his fingers, and a medically-clad demon appeared on Dean's other side, equipped with some kind of machine that had a tv monitor attached to it. He pulled out a container of gel and squirted it on Dean's abdomen, making him jump from the cold, and turned on the machine. The nameless demon held the transducer over Dean's belly until the monitor lit up, and then it was showtime.

Dean had trouble deciphering the images on the screen until he saw a skull. And a little hand. And a tongue sucking the thumb of the little hand.

He heard typing on the machine, and BABY A appeared just above the image. Then he saw GIRL. The nurse-demon-thing took measurements of the child inside, and then moved the transducer over to the other side of Dean's belly. The other baby showed up. It was upside down, opposite the girl, and the right hand had a hold of the umbilical cord. He heard the tapping of the keyboard again, this time saying BABY B and BOY. The pressure of the tool was pressing against his insides and bladder, which was actually full and uncomfortable. Dean caught himself holding his breath and hissing periodically to deal with this process, and discovered it wasn't helping much.

He'd carried ideas around in his head his whole adult life about what it would be like to have kids someday. Not that he'd ever thought it would happen…he actually took at least some precautions to prevent it…he came the closest with Lisa, and now the pictures in his head were returning like a series of snapshots of what he thought it might be…hugging his girl over a positive pregnancy test, decorating a nursery, this thingy now (_what's this called? A sono-something),_ holding her hand as she pushed, and bringing his newborn son out to meet his Uncle Sam. His eyes betrayed him and filled with tears of fear for the babies on the screen. That was the way it was supposed to be. Not like this. _Not like this. But they look so small. And so helpless. Is that an ear? Is that thingy attached to me? To my body? I'm feeding them?! They need me. They need Sam. He's gonna have a girl and a boy. God, they're beautiful. They're innocent. God Almighty, help me…_

Crowley ignored the hunter's emotionality and addressed the demon technician. "When will they be viable?"

The technician responded in medical terms. "They seem to be around 24 to 26 weeks, that's what the measurements are saying. Most human babies are viable by 35, maybe 38 weeks. Without medical assistance, that is. And twins usually come a little early." The technician's eyes then narrowed and he appeared confused.

"What is it, you twit?"

"There's no exit. They can't be born. Not the traditional way, anyway. There's the placenta, and the amniotic sac, the umbilical cords, but no cervix or birth canal."

The two demons looked at each other and giggled, and then Crowley spoke. "Not only do I get to kill you, I get to flay you open in front of your niece and nephew. Welcome to the nursery, Dean! Make yourself comfortable. You have another 13 weeks."

With that, demons disappeared, as did Dean's restraints. He sat up and rubbed his belly, trying to soothe the frightened children inside. "Oh, God, Sam. Please, please, please come get me. This is bad."


	13. Chapter 13

Salt of the Earth Chapter 13

A/N: Some of the information used here has actually been part of the history of my own family, although I am not of Native American descent. Any misuse of Kiowan history is just the result of my own ineptitude, ignorance, and creative mind. A BIG THANK YOU to my beta cmsserenity—you are the fuel to my fire, the syrup to my waffles, the cabbage of my coleslaw! Another gracious thank you to all that have reviewed and sent me messages saying how much you are enjoying this fic! You guys are da bomb ((insert lame knuckle bump here))!

Sam called Kevin, still locked in Garth's boat, and provided instructions for him to get to the farm safely and under the radar of any angels or demons that might be so inclined to follow him. Cas volunteered to accompany him, or at least tail him from a distance to assure his safe arrival. Anse had instructed Sam to go to the hospital and check on Fred and see if the young boy was conscious and had any information.

He arrived at Sacred Heart Catholic Hospital, and found Fred's mom, Elanor, Marisa, Abby and Susanna sitting outside of his room. Susanna jumped from her seat and embraced him. He felt himself calm just a bit in her arms, and another weird thought, well, rather a phrase, entered his mind: HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL. He didn't know what it meant, other than he would find his brother, and a strange peace came over him. He released her from his grip (he didn't realize how tight he was holding her until he went to let go), cupped her face, and looked into her eyes.

"Everything will be fine, Sam," she said, sensing his hurt and returning his stare. "You'll see. Everything will be fine."

He hugged her again briefly and looked through the window at Fred. He had a gash in the left side of his neck that looked at least six inches long. He wasn't hooked up to a ventilator, but he was unconscious. "I'm so sorry, Elanor."

She spoke to him with a strong Irish brogue. "Tis okay, son, I'm glad he'll come home to me."

"Did he say anything?"

"It's that infernal, damned Crowley, I think."

Sam turned white. He felt the blood draining from his face as Elanor continued.

"My son, he said, 'Demon. Black suit. Accent.' That bastard has your brother. What would he want with him?"

Sam paused for a second to clear his head. Boy, Dean was gonna be mad when he got back. He sighed first and told them the truth. All he got in return was three blank-eyed women, mouths open, and...nothing. Had the circumstances not been what they were, he might have thought it was funny. He stared back, especially at Abby, until a nurse came to address them.

"Mrs. Pemby? Mrs. Pemby, are you okay?"

The woman turned her head and looked at the nurse, address not sinking in, with the same expression she'd wore for the last three minutes. She visibly shook herself free from the shock of the latest information, and focused on the need at hand. The nurse took her by the elbow away from the remaining three and began to provide her son's latest test results.

Sam spoke first, again. "I have to get back to the farm."

"Yeah, you do," Abby offered. Her mouth opened again and she looked like she was prepared to say something, and nothing came out. "Please find him, Sam, please."

"I will. Your dad's on it, so is half the farm."

Susanna gripped his bicep and rubbed it with her thumb reassuringly. "Our farm has secrets buried in the soil. My dad will bring him back. I know he will."

Sam reached out and took her by the nape of the neck and leaned in to kiss her. He rubbed her cheek, and turned around and left.

When he arrived back at the ranch, he found Anse and several others gathered in a large, empty field near the burial grounds. They were gathering wood and throwing it into a large pile, like they were preparing for a bonfire. Sam studied the activity for a moment while he was approaching Anse, Bob, and David.

"I know who has him," Sam started. "It's Crowley."

Bob looked at the other two men and spoke first. "If this works, it ain't gonna matter who has him."

"What do you mean? What do you mean 'if this works'?"

"Granted, it's a big 'if,' but I can tell you, no demon or angel has ever contended with a force like this. We're poking a sleeping giant, but I'm pretty sure he likes us."

Bob stepped away to greet a small child carrying a canvas bag. "Anse, I got the last of it right here."

"Go do what you need to do." With that, Bob left. Unknown to Sam, the bag contained three ingredients needed for the ceremony: a feather from a Tai-me statue, crushed bear claw, and the most important—purified salt of the earth from the lands of the Kiowa. They would only need one more to complete the process and make their request known.

"What's going on?"

Anse began walking away with his back to the pile of brush and wood. He put his arm around Sam's shoulder and encouraged him to walk, too. "Sam, there's a lot on this farm. A lot more than you can see. Do you know what its name is?"

Sam shook his head.

"Khe-ate means Big Shield in the Kiowan language. They needed to protect this place and all the dead in it, so the Great Spirit placed a blessing on this land so it would never be desecrated after they were forced out. That's why we don't have to salt and burn here. This only came to be because our ancestors protected the land until the blessing was put in place."

Sam just listened. If any of this was useful to get Dean and his babies back, he would absorb it like a sponge.

"What are you going to do?"

"We're gonna wake them up."

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

_16 years old when I went to war_

_To fight for a land fit for heroes_

_God on my side and a gun in my hand_

_Chasing my days down to zero_

_And I marched and I fought and I bled and I died_

_And I never did get any older_

_But I knew at the time that a year in the line_

_Was a long enough life for a soldier_

_Motorhead, 1916_

Dean sat on the couch in the room, no, _prison_, waiting for news from Crowley that he needed to be moved, because Sam was on the way to rescue him. This would be his cue to make a break for it. _He won't leave me again, he said he wouldn't, didn't he? If nothing else, these are his kids! He'll want them, right? I gotta keep them healthy for him. He's coming to get me. I know he is…_

He fought the insinuous grip of despair valiantly for what he thought might have been days. It was difficult to tell how much time had passed since his watch was taken and there were no windows. He tried to sleep, but ultimately his rest ended in nightmares, so he only did so when his body absolutely gave out. His captors made sure he had an unending supply of food and water (to feed their gowing potential brethren), but his only motivation to eat was to care for his niece and nephew. He really had no appetite at all. Whether it was boredom or hope, he didn't know, but he had come up with at least 100 different scenarios as to how he could be freed. So far, none had come.

He resigned himself to singing to the babies, so that someday, even if they were in Crowley's clutches, somehow they would remember him. He'd heard that babies could hear their mom before they were born, so he figured he'd try it out. At least it was something. It would be really cool if the boy liked classic rock.

Sometimes while he was singing a song, a verse would strike him, a verse maybe he forgot until he went to repeat it, and he would find himself tearing up and thinking of his brother. _It can't end like this. I can't fail him. Where is he? Does he think I left? With all we've been through, and now we're on the verge of being okay_…_If I lose them, how am I gonna explain this? I forgot how much I need him. We REALLY can't function without each other_…_What's this gonna do to him?_ Or Abby. God, what he wouldn't do to curl up next to her! He often thought of their kiss and how he could have made things just a little different. Maybe he wouldn't have been here, now, if he'd stayed with her all night instead of going home. The damned butterfly effect had to work in someone's favor, sometimes, right?

_If I could fight. If I could only fight, I'd be so outta here. I can't risk hurting them. I can't. If something happened and they died, what would happen to Sam? Cas guaranteed that we'd be safe if  
I stayed on the property—that's out the window, now…they COULD die, and me with them…God, he wants them so much. It's his chance to get outta this shit. He can stay on that farm with that girl and have a ton more kids. Preferably, not courtesy of me. When I told him I wanted him to die old and fat and chugging Viagra, I meant it. He deserves it. He's a good man. Much better than me…_

Crowley stopped in every now and then to either harass Dean about his predicament or have him submit to yet another examination. Each time he was suddenly and involuntarily strapped down and poked and prodded—to draw blood, check the babies and his health, as well—if he didn't make it through this, the babies wouldn't either. The sonograms measured the babies lung maturity and Dean overheard that as soon as they could handle the process of breathing they would be taken…judging from the activity in his belly, it just might as well be tomorrow…

He couldn't tell whether it was the twins getting stronger or time passing, but their movements became much more defined, often when he was trying to sleep. He would try to soothe and rub away the kicks and thumps, but ultimately he would end up pleading with them to just rest for awhile. He was amazed at how his stomach would develop moving lumps and roll and tilt with the babies' fidgeting. _Looks like Alien_, he thought often. He was surprised, too, that it became uncomfortable and damn near painful, and he would groan and try to shift his weight or arch his back to make it more bearable. Sometimes it took his breath away, especially when he felt like they were laying on his hip bones. He would sit back and watch in silence at what he supposed were feet and arms appeared under his skin, and fearfully wondered how he was going to get through this. Sometimes it felt as if the babies were playing real-life rock 'em, sock 'em robots inside him, and his whole abdomen would shift from side to side. They kicked his ribs. They kicked his stomach when he ate and gave him heartburn. They danced on his bladder and ran in place when Dean tried to rest. It was clear they had a mind and agenda of their own, and it was to make Uncle Dean crazy.

_Oh, Sam, please don't leave me…_

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

"Who? Who are we waking up?" Sam asked. Judging by the size of the bonfire, it just may have well been a giant.

"Extreme provocation calls for extreme measure," Anse replied. "You'll see. You'll have your brother home by morning."

"Alive?" Sam swallowed hard, realizing that this might be the 'if' in 'if this works'.

"That's the idea."

Night fell, and the ranch took on an electric atmosphere that Sam had not felt before. It seemed as if every volunteer was in the field, gathering around the kindling. They were largely quiet, but the energy was palpable.

Anse, David and Bob arrived, carefully carrying a breathtakingly beautiful feather blanket. They laid it on top of the pile of wood, and began to chant. It wasn't any language Sam had heard before. It wasn't Enochian, nor was it Latin. As Sam listened, it took on the rhythm of a song, and he thought maybe it sounded like Native American. _Duh…Native American, Sam_…Bob cued him to come from the audience to stand with the three men, grabbed Sam's hand and cut his palm with a knife.

While Anse was chanting, Bob interpreted to Sam what was going on. "The blanket is from the last War Chief before the tribe was moved from these lands. There's a feather from a Tai-Me statue knotted into the fibers, the brown powder is bear claw—you ever heard of a mother bear and how she protects?"

"Yeah."

"You know what they do when you separate them from their young?" Bob looked into Sam's eyes and he nodded, understanding completely.

"And my blood?"

"They gotta know who they're looking for…?"

Bob held out a bowl with the items in it and allowed Sam's blood to mix in. He then carried the concoction back to Anse, who stuck it in the middle of the woodpile and ignited it with a match. Surprisingly, it lit the entire pile quickly with no accelerant.

"What now?"

"Now we wait."

The whole crowd was quiet and the only audible thing in the field was the sound of crackling wood. It grew fast, and Sam could have sworn he heard Indian victory yelps and screams…


	14. Chapter 14

Salt of the Earth Chapter 14

As Sam heard the chanting become more audible, a strange haze originated from the fire and filled the field and surrounded the volunteers. It was odd. No one panicked, no one coughed, and no one made an effort to wave it away, although they looked about themselves and each other with their curiosity piqued. The Indian cries and yelps became louder and louder and eventually were joined by the cadence of drums.

Anse again returned his attention to the fire, opened the canvas bag delivered to Bob earlier in the day, and threw about half of the white, powdery substance into the fire. It immediately combusted the fire into twice its size, and the Indian Spirits, dancing and chanting around the fire, came into full view.

It was a magnificent sight, and all, including Sam, were mesmerized. They hopped on one foot and spun in circles and chanted and danced. The rhythm became more and more frantic until all at once, everything stopped. One man emerged from the crowd of Kiowa. He wore an extravagant headdress and carried a staff adorned with bright feathers and horns and beads. His face was wrinkled, his eyes were narrow, and his mouth was straight and sober. His tanned skin looked almost metallic as the light reflected on it. He fixed his sights on Anse and his accomplices and walked over to them.

He began to speak to them in his language, and Bob began to interpret for Sam. "He wants to know our purpose for calling him. Anse is explaining."

The Chief responded to Anse with an expressionless gaze, and then looked at Sam and motioned for him to step close.

"He wants to read you." Bob offered. "It's okay."

The Chief laid his right hand on Sam's chest, just above his heart, and closed his eyes. He started to chant a still, quiet song, and after about twenty seconds, he opened his eyes. Sam was surprised when the Chief began to talk in English. "You have deep love for your family and will be a devoted father to your children and a faithful husband to your wife. Your heart is pure, like the salt from which we were formed by the Great Spirit. We will help you."

He again turned to Anse, who laid the remainder of the salt in the Chief's hands. Again, the Chief started to chant and pray, and hurled the rest of the salt into the fire. His tribe began to whoop and sing while the fire formed the visage of a bear, growling and roaring, and then disappearing into the night sky. Sam could feel its breath and see its teeth. It was so loud he found himself cringing and covering his ears.

The whole tribe, one by one, began to fade into the fire. Initially, Sam thought they were leaving, but this indeed was not the case. As he saw each Kiowa being taken by the flames, an ember would leave the top and shoot into the air.

"Those are the scouts. The trackers. There's nothing they can't find and sigils against devils and angels are useless against them, because they are neither," David informed Sam. He pursed his lips and nodded with satisfaction. "Yep. We'll have Dean back. By morning."

As Sam watched his brother's rescuers disappear into the night sky, he heard a familiar voice behind him and felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He spun around and caught sight of Cas, Kevin and Mrs. Tran.

"Thanks for inviting us to the party," Mrs. Tran offered. "I like the fireworks."

Cas stood before the three of them. "We're gonna need some more."

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

Crowley watched as Dean paced in the cell back and forth, rubbing his stomach and talking to himself. He chuckled slightly. This was better than Dirty Housewives of Miami. To watch a nemesis self-destruct with so little effort was just too much entertainment at once—it had to be stretched out—like a bad television miniseries, except all the episodes were the same. Pace, punch the wall, lament, cry, pray, sleep, eat, cry, mope, cry, cry, cry…He just smiled and walked away.

Dean was making it pretty easy for Crowley to entertain himself. The boredom, fear and loneliness were inciting his mind to wander. Sam had just dropped him before; of course, he wasn't aware of this until he was back, but the underlying thought that this might have happened again kept gnawing at his brain. Maybe he had just written him off as dead. Cas was pretty insistent on their staying on the safegrounds—_maybe Sam just thought since I left, maybe I'm dead….This is like being buried alive…_He searched the room high and low for anything that may have contributed to an escape plan, but to no avail. Crowley thought this out well. While Dean was unconscious, he was stripped of all his tips and tricks and was left with nothing but his jeans, boxers and a tee shirt. When he ate, the food appeared on the table with a bunch of napkins and drinks, but no silverware. There was nothing to fashion and fix into a weapon, no magic potions to ignite, nothing to barter, and no way to get out. He could fake like something was wrong and he was in pain, but with no door and the demons watching him expendable to Crowley, there wouldn't have been anywhere to run, anyway…

As he sat on the couch, he began to scream Crowley's name, but alas, there was no appearance. His voice resonated off the walls of the room, and Dean leaned the back of his head against the wall, his throat raw. He was beginning to believe that no one was coming. We would die sliced open in a demon-inflicted caesarian, Crowley would make off like the Hamburglar with his two little prizes and Sam would spend the rest of his natural (and maybe unnatural) life trying to find them.

His eyes opened when he heard what sounded like thunder that kept getting louder and louder and then came the first explosion, and in short succession, a second, then another. After a short intermission he heard a cacophony of demon screams and gurgles and…Horses? Indians? He quickly moved into the middle of the room, not knowing what kind of coup (or maybe…rescue) was occurring outside and where the attack was coming from. Senses heightened, he kept one arm in a defensive position, while the other was protectively wrapped around his abdomen. He spun around several times, trying to keep all four corners of the room under complete surveillance while the insurgency outside ensued. Then, everything was quiet. He continued to scan the room for several seconds, until he felt a tap on his shoulder.


	15. Chapter 15

Salt of the Earth Chapter 15

A/N So—imagine how cool it was when I was thinking of how to reunite Sam and Dean, coming home from working a midnight on a Sunday morning, and I heard the lyrics of this song. I like the acoustic version the best. Then, it all became clear…

_You won't find him trying to chase the devil_

_For money, fame, for power, or out of greed_

_You won't ever find him where the rest go_

_You will find him, you will find him next to me._

_When the skies are grey and all the doors are closing_

_And the rising pressure makes it hard to breathe_

_Well, all I need is a hand to stop the tears from falling_

_I will find him, I will find him next to me._

_-Emeli Sande NEXT TO ME_

He drew in a breath and held it as he turned around. When he let it out, it almost sounded like a whimper.

Cas felt his friend's body trembling as he held him in a reassuring bearhug. He could hear Dean's breath hitching slightly and the hunter trying desperately to swallow the lump that most assuredly was in his throat. The angel began to disengage when he felt more presence in the room, and warned Dean before he opened his eyes. "Don't panic."

Dean pulled back and studied his friend's face with confusion before he realized that they were no longer the only two in the room. He stood still and comically scanned to the left and the right and discovered they were surrounded, but not by demons.

"Too late…"

They were Indians _(—like Indian Indians_, _Sam!_), and they were magnificent. They wore headdresses and had their faces painted and held supernatural tomahawks and bows. They were all reserved and humorless and—looking at him…

"These are your rescuers. They've come to escort you home," Cas began. He placed his hand on Dean's belly and both men felt the welcoming kicks and leaps from the babies. "They're healthy," He smiled. "And strong. And getting bigger." Dean relaxed and smiled with joy and relief for the first time in (maybe) weeks. His eyes filled with alarm for a moment as he scanned the room.

"Where's Crowley?"

"Sonofabitch ran like a scared rabbit," an unfamiliar voice responded from behind Dean.

Dean turned around and found himself staring at a belt buckle. A belt buckle? Harley Davidson? Then he looked up. And then up again.

A giant, tattooed angel hovered (_okay, well, not hovered, he was standing_…) over Dean and was looking down at him. He had long, dark hair and kohl-lined eyes and the biggest pair of biceps Dean had ever seen in his life. He wasn't young. The vessel this particular angel picked had been well-worn over the years, but his face was etched with deep lines (and—no—they weren't laugh lines) that seemed to scar his mouth into an eternal scowl. He wore a long leather duster and his feet were housed, by Dean's estimation, in size 18 double-wide motorcycle boots. His clothes were all black from his tucked-in tee shirt to his jeans. He had to be at least seven feet tall and almost his whole body was covered in tattoos of scripture and images of power and peace.

"This is Calliel," Cas introduced. "He's the babies' guardian angel. He'll be your transport home."

"But…he's SCARY," Dean commented, still looking up, straight at the angel.

He stepped back to face Cas.

"You're not coming back?"

"Yes."

"Is it safe?"

"I think we've arrived at a solution. The angels will stand down. For now. I'll see you at the ranch."

The angels nodded at each other, and Calliel looked at Dean. "Time to go," and Calliel touched Dean's forehead.

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

Sam stood sentinel all night long waiting for any sign of his brother. He paced and searched and struck up conversation with anyone who would entertain him. Many of the volunteers had laid down right in the grass, warmed by their coats and some using each other as pillows. Only those with the very young had chosen out of necessity to return to their homes. The mist had not faded away but had only become thicker with the rising sun and harder and harder to see through.

Sam, having been awake for almost 48 hours, was beginning to succumb to exhaustion and despair of his own. These last two days had been a waking nightmare for him, and his own mind began to fabricate stories of what happened to Dean. _Was he still alive? Were the babies? What has Crowley done to them? He's a sick sonofabitch. If he did anything to my brother, I won't stop…_

He looked at the ground, premature grief taking hold. It was morning and not one of the warriors had returned, the fire was out, and people were starting to wake up. Bob, sensing Sam's loss of faith, walked over to him and offered a hot cup of coffee from one of the ladies who had returned in the morning from home. Sam offered him his gratitude and continued to look around at the crowd. They were beginning to realize now that Dean had not returned, and instead of looks of hope and comfort, Sam was seeing expressions of sympathy and loss.

He felt a hard slap on the back of his right shoulder from the direction where Bob had been standing, and followed Bob's point to further out in the field. As his eyes focused, he could see images of Native Americans coming into view and becoming clearer and clearer. He began to search the crowd of ghostly figures for his brother, and let out a gasp when a pair of bowed legs and a familiar gait materialized. He smiled and handed the cup back to Bob, and took off to meet his brother.

Their eyes met about 20 yards from each other, and they stopped for a second. Both were overcome with emotion at the sight of the other, but in true Winchester fashion, reeled it in before they met. They greeted each other with a handshake and a 'hey'. Sam caved first, as always, and grabbed his brother and pulled him in. Dean followed suit. Their muscles seemed to turn to stone periodically in each other's arms as gasps and sobs escaped and betrayed their captors. Loose hands turned to fists full of clothing and two arms turned to four. Sam parted from his brother and began inspecting him for injuries as the crowd of volunteers gathered around them, including Abby and Susanna. The younger of the brothers earned a 'what are you doing, you geek' look from Dean when he patted him from head to hips, continuing the assessment.

"Are you okay? Do you hurt anywhere?" Sam asked, unsure as to what trauma his brother may have suffered.

"Yeah, I'm fine. The kids are, too."

Before the crowd got too close, Sam insisted on clearing up something with his brother. "I know they're okay. I know you. I know you'd throw yourself under a bus to keep them safe. I'm not worried about them. I'm worried about you."

Surprised by his brother's candor, Dean stopped for a moment, looked his brother in the eye, and before he was able to say anything, his thoughts were interrupted by Abby hooking her arm in his.

"Hey, handsome."

Dean lowered his head in to kiss her. They rested their foreheads together as Anse, David, Bob, Marisa, Mrs. Pemby and Frederick came closer. Dean smiled and greeted them as they exchanged congratulatory praises. The young redhead was still sporting a large bandage over the stitches in his neck, and Dean thought _I gotta get Cas to fix that…_

Just then, the gathering began to separate in a series of whispers and rumbles as the Dean's escort stepped forward to meet the father of his charges. Sam's eyes were like moons as he was approached by Calliel.

"Who is that?" he whispered to Dean, quietly.

"That's my ride," Dean answered, still impressed at the angel's size and manifestation. Truth be known, it was cool to be friends with an angel, and even cooler with one as intimidating as this…

"He's …scary."

"Yep. He's also the kids' guardian angel. Would you wanna mess with him? I know, right? I think they'll be safe."

Sam extended for a handshake and greeted Calliel. The angel's hand wrapped the whole way around Sam's fist so that his index finger and thumb touched. Sam, too, was impressed.

"I'll be hanging around for a while." After his statement, the angel reached over and healed Fred's wound with a touch. "That was bothering me."

Sam laughed quietly for a second and signaled his approval.

Anse stepped out from behind Calliel. "Sam, Dean, why don't you fellas rest up for a while. You look worn out. We'll meet up again tonight. Girls, come with me."

Sam, Dean and the girls parted ways, leaving the men to walk quietly back to the house, rest and find solace in each other.

They walked in shell-shocked silence up the front steps to the porch and sat on the swing.

Sam continued to study his brother. "What happened there? What did he do?"

Dean cringed. He'd been expecting questions, but not this early.

"I'd rather not…talk about it right now," Dean answered. "I was alone most of the time. I was outta my head."

"What do you mean?"

Dean looked away from Sam out towards the fields, then down at the porch floor. "Nothing. Nothing."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No. He pretty much left me alone. I was alone."

Sam moved closer to his brother and knelt in front of him. "You need to know this. I never would have left you there. I did everything I could and then Anse took over. And it wasn't because of the twins. You're my brother. I would have searched for you until I died or found you. That's it."

Dean washed his hands over his face and nodded. "Me too."

"Are they still moving around?"

"All the time."


	16. Chapter 16

Salt of the Earth Chapter 16

Dean made a valiant effort for the remainder of the morning to stay awake, as did Sam. While it's true that adrenaline can induce much-needed strength and energy in a crisis, when it dissipates and the body begins to settle, it's much like coming off a methamphetamine high—the body reacts to the expended energy and realizes at some point that it's been running on fumes. Then, despite the intention and will of its owner, it shuts down to recharge.

Dean was the first to go. He fell asleep on the blue and green plaid couch much like he did during his imprisonment. Sam watched his brother for the better part of an hour before he gave out, too. Not knowing the majority of the torture his brother endured, he stayed close in case Dean awakened with a nightmare. He knew there'd be a crick in his neck from his position on the highback chair, but that was the least of his worries. A little ibuprofen could fix a sore muscle—it would take much more to fix his brother.

Calliel provided some peace to both of them. Sam snickered to himself when he thought of the irony of the situation. What was once considered "creepy," to he and Dean was now a comfort, especially with a guardian angel who looked like he'd been rode hard and put away wet; or, at least visited Sturgis four too many times.

The angel stood by the hallway to the kitchen, out of the men's way of sight. He may be scary looking, and in many ways, he chose this vessel for that very reason, but he knew his duty was to protect these children and watch them grow, much like a parent would. Babies, he knew, were not judgmental and were able to see past the outside and to where there was peace and comfort; adults (and others in the supernatural realm) were not quite as forgiving, and had the tendency to allow these prejudices to steer themselves away from him. That was the idea—to avert disaster and prevent his charges from harm with as little direct intervention as possible. These two in particular were going to be a challenge, even more so than kids he had guarded in the past. He'd seen his share of daredevil pre-teen boys and 11-year-old girls that looked much older, but none of them had what these two had, especially in their biology. Their "parents" were two of the most hated men in the demonic community, and even more, they were angels. They would have powers that had the potential to ostracize them from their playmates and intimidate their parents and babysitters. This kind of power was dangerous, and the persons from the 'other side' knew it. Hence the reason why Crowley and his kin were so interested. Children can so easily be manipulated and made to carry out orders under the guise of love, much like a pitbull wanting to please their owners, even to their own destruction. He hoped that Sam and Dean would opt for the offer made by the angels when the time came for it to be presented to them…

He hadn't taken part in the power plays of the others, so they left him alone. Yes, he had an opinion, and his method of delivery was so _right_, it left suitors of his loyalty leaving feeling shamed and embarrassed. After word got around in the heavenly community that he would not participate in the destruction of heaven, his peers just stopped asking him; which, in his opinion, was what he wanted in the first place—to do his job: To protect the unborn and young from evil and those who would corrupt until the Age of Independent Thinking, when humans begin to think for themselves and either remember the messages he whispered in their ears, or throw them away like pearls before swine. The latter was the most difficult to watch for him, of course, and he always wanted to intervene…

He was stirred out of his musings when he noticed one of the babies, the boy, struggling inside Dean's belly. The cord was crushed and cutting off his circulation. The little one kicked and pulled and stretched and punched, but found no relief in returning blood supply or oxygen. Calliel rustled Sam from this slumber first, and then sought his assistance in waking Dean.

"Dean! Dean! Wake up!"

Dean awoke with a gasp and an immediate flail of the arms in an attempt to defend. It took him a moment to realize where he was and who he was with, and Sam calmed and oriented him. Before he could ask, Calliel went to work. He put his hands on both sides of Dean's stomach and manipulated the boy into a safer position, where the compression lifted and all life-sustaining sustenance returned to healthy levels. The little boy's struggling stopped.

"The cord was compromised. I fixed it," Calliel offered as an explanation, answering Dean's confused and frightened expression.

Still wide-eyed and alarmed, Dean thanked him between breaths and rubbed his stomach. "Good guardian angel."

The boy woke his sister and she _wasn't happy._ Dean arched his back and grimaced a little, trying to get comfortable, while Sam just stared, still wishing he could see this and support his brother a little more. According to the timeframe Cas had given them, he was approaching the hardest part of pregnancy—the last trimester—and Sam felt useless to offer him comfort.

Calliel looked at him with suspicion. "When did Cas say they would be ready?"

"June," Dean answered, closing his eyes for a moment. _Settle down. baby, please? You're killing my ribs…_"Feels like tomorrow."

At that moment, Sam had an epiphany from something he saw once on television and hopped out of the chair, offering his brother a pillow for his back. Dean just furrowed his brow and looked at him.

"How'd you know I needed that?"

Sam smiled. _Score one for the clueless dad. Even a blind squirrel finds a nut sometimes…_"You looked like you could use it."

"You better rethink that due date."

Both men looked up (_and up)_at Calliel. "I've been guarding babies for four thousand years. I'd say you have about eight weeks left. How long were you held?"

He honestly felt sorry for both men. They looked like two little boys who were caught by a policeman doing something wrong and were made to tell their parents. Their eyes were huge and their mouths were hanging open and nothing was coming out. He'd seen that expression SO many times. He had to smile.

"Dean?" He snapped his fingers. Dean blinked. "Hey. Focus."

"I dunno, maybe a week? I dunno! He took everything and there weren't any windows in the place. I couldn't count days." Dean slid off the couch and started to pace the hardwood floor.

"Dean, you were only away from here for two days," Sam informed, now standing.

"I'm gonna be sick."

"Time passes differently when you're anywhere but here," Calliel said sympathetically. "They grew according to where you were. You estimate a week, but-."

"Four months was forty years."

Calliel nodded. "Yes."

"This is insane."

"Dean, you're shaking again."

"Shut up, Sam."

Sam put his head down. Calliel stood in front of the window with his arms folded. Both were quiet.

Dean leaned against the hearth of the fireplace, rubbing his eyes and covering his mouth with has hand. "Eight weeks, huh?"

Calliel nodded. "Give or take a week, maybe a few days."

Dean hissed and put his hand on his stomach. "Come on, babe, gimme a break, k?"

"What's wrong?"

"She's moving a lot. It's gettin' kinda tight in there."

"It's a 'she'? How do you know?"

"Crowley did a sono-thingy. To see how soon they'd be viable."

Sam was mortified. _Viability? To see how soon he could take them_…What else had Crowley done to him? He couldn't have submitted to that, right? But then again, he was alone and physically compromised…

"Sam, come here," Calliel motioned. "Dean, sit."

Dean sat again on the couch. This again, made both babies squirm for comfort.

Calliel grabbed Sam's hand and placed it on Dean's stomach, then laid his hand on top of Sams. Dean was uncharacteristically patient, but uncomfortable, nonetheless. _Now I know why pregnant women are mean. Guys want kids, not pregnant wives…_

Sam's son and daughter put on a show for their dad. They jumped and kicked and hiccupped, making Dean catch his breath at times. He winced when one of them kicked straight down into his bladder, and he was tempted to make the other two let go and roll the credits, until he saw the expression on Sam's face. There was a flavor of "Ew, this is Dean and I have my hands on him and his is happening inside his body," but the more prominent expression was one of fascination and joy. He couldn't rob his brother of this. "Like I said, dude, not the way I pictured it in the movies."

"Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes. They kick bone, man. You really can't see this, can you?"

Sam shook his head and removed his hand, knowing that Dean was dealing the best he could and was using every bit as much patience as the Pope. "I wanna see them."

Dean smirked. "I do, too. Hey Cal, you think I could knock up and angel and return the favor on my brother, since he's so fascinated?"

"Did you just call me 'Cal'?"

"Ah—no—did I? Cas, Cal, sounds good, right?"

"No."


	17. Chapter 17

Salt of the Earth Chapter 17

"I feel violated," Dean grumbled. "That was just all sortsa weird."

Sam looked at the carpet. "Yeah. I get it. Sorry."

"Knock it off, you're my brother. I'd die for you, remember? It's all good, just…intrusive." He said the last word like it tasted bitter…

"If it's any consolation, I thought it was kinda 'off', too. I've patched you up, helped work out backaches and shit, but, yeah…"

Dean shivered and moved forward to get off the couch. "I'm gonna take a shower." He made a small movement to get up, then, nothing…

Sam stared. "You gonna take a shower, like-today?"

"I'd like to." He looked annoyed.

"What's wrong?"

The older brother bit his lip and looked at Sam, then huffed. "Don't laugh. Sam. Do not laugh."

Sam started to smile already. "What?"

Dean looked away, now embarrassed AND annoyed. "I can't get up."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean—why are you making me say this twice? I. Can't. Get up."

Sam snorted and didn't make much effort to cover it. The image he had in his head was disturbing, but…_FUNNY_…This was the second time Dean set his jaw today. The next eight weeks were going to be a great time…He reached for his brother's hand to help him, and as soon as Dean began to pull, he let it go limp. Dean just sat there, glaring, as Sam giggled out loud.

"Not funny, Sam!"

"You look like a turtle," Sam choked out, eyes tearing up, "Stuck on it's back-!"

"I am soooo seeking out an angel when I'm done with this."

Sam was in full laughter now, so much so he could barely breathe. "OctoDean!" He covered his mouth and eyes with his hands, and fell into the highback chair, hysterical.

Dean began to laugh, too. "I'm gonna make your daughter into Honey Boo Boo."

Sam reached out his hand again, still sniveling and wiping his eyes. This time, Dean slapped it away and slid his butt towards the front of the couch, gripped the armrest and hoisted himself up; in the process, arching his back and sticking his stomach out. This, of course, started Sam all over again.

"I hope you enjoyed the show." He walked towards the stairs.

Sam smiled and wiped his eyes. "If you wash it more than once, you're playing with it..."

"I can barely reach it, Sam!"

Shortly after Sam showered (in cold water—brothers always get their revenge), there was a knock at the door. It was Mrs. Pemby. "I'd like to invite you to the community hall…there's something Frederick and the ladies would like to show you. He's worked especially hard on it…"

Dean made the first attempt to wriggle out of another obligation. He was still tired and reeling from the hangover from an overdose of 'alone,' but to be around crowds wasn't quite what he wanted, either. He just wanted to hang with his brother and the girls, stay home, and maybe fall asleep with Abby right next to him…

Sam galloped down the steps and flat-out lied to the woman. "You know, I was just starting to make dinner. He's tired, I'm tired-."

"No excuses, boys! You're part of us, now! We won't keep you long, and Dean, you can sleep as long as you want after tonight, and take care of yourself and those precious bairn you're carrying."

Dean's eyes widened in horror, then he set his jaw and looked in Sam's direction. "I'm gonna cut your heart out while you sleep."

"Extreme provocation calls for extreme measure."

"Yes, it does."

Mrs. Pemby gently took Dean by the arm and led him to the porch, with Sam following behind. They walked down the dirt path, past the girls' and Anse's houses to the community hall, all the time listening to Mrs. Pemby's brogue and how well Fred had been doing, how he and his twin have been on their most excellent behavior, and how she could help when the babies came. She walked arm in arm with Dean, and actually, he was a little entertained by her. She was a sweet lady, and she knew firsthand what it would be like to take care of two babies at once.

Abby and Susanna met them outside the door with kisses.

"Come on, daddies."

As they entered the hall, Dean's eyes lit up. Presents littered the far wall; all wrapped in pastel colors and bows, pies of all flavors and sizes, some still warm from the oven, lined up on a table and filled the air with their scents. Little booties and binkies decorated each table, and rattles and bottles filled with shiny pink and blue paper dangled from the rafters. Clearly, this was a community that loved to celebrate. There were tiny finger sandwiches and fruit with dip, freshly fried chicken, and hamburgers—more than Dean could count. Sam laughed out loud at the feat, which couldn't have been done in just a few hours. Small children and babies ran about and laughed and screamed while the other guests clapped and laughed at the men's reaction.

Anse approached the two and greeted them with a handshake and a smile. "You two don't seem like the type to have stored childcare stuff away. We thought we'd take care of some of it for ya."

"How'd you get all this done? You didn't get any sleep, either!" Sam exclaimed, still looking around. Gosh, he felt like a tourist's first trip to Las Vegas, all wide-eyed with wonder…

He smiled at Cas, who stood silently behind the brothers. "We had help."

Dean pointed at all the decorations. "Wait. YOU did this?"

"You said you wanted a party. I…didn't know how, so I consulted with the resident experts."

Sam and Dean smiled at the girls, and then back at Cas. "Thank you."

The afternoon carried into the evening. Dean ate as much as his crowded stomach would allow, and even Sam indulged in some unhealthy eating, as well. The presents included everything that the new babies would need, and they were actually excited when they got doubles. Gael had somehow found a miniature Impala—a motorized one that a child could drive—from an unknown website that produced cars for motorhead dads and was able to ship it _within an hour_; the joke was that since there was no music to pick, Dean would have to sing for them. Sam assured everyone he'd buy insulated ear covers for each person on the ranch.

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

As the end of the party neared and people were starting to call it a day, Marisa approached the brothers. Her heart was still broken over the loss of her child, but she was able to celebrate these new lives and the blessings that would come in spite of it all.

"You just wait," she started. "When those big eyes look up at you, and you look into them, you realize the meaning of true love. Your heart will never be the same—it'll never be just yours again. You'll laugh so hard that you'll cry, you'll worry about every little sneeze and sniffle, you'll get homemade noodle pictures and necklaces and lost socks and hugs and tears, and you know what? You won't have it any other way. When they start to coo and talk to you, and giggle for the first time, you'll doubt heaven exists because you think you're in it. Don't let the sleepless nights and tantrums take away any of that. When you come home from a hunt and think the whole world is sick and broken, it'll all change when they run to you and soak you with wet kisses. You'll see."

Dean cleared his throat and looked at her, said, "Thank you," and hugged her hard. Sam followed suit. His recollection of John coming through the door after a hunt was reduced to still shots and series of frames in his mind, but he remembered the looks on Sammy's face when it happened, and it was true…

The brothers scanned the hall as they prepared to leave when the cleanup commenced. Dean was surprised to find one more present. It was wrapped up and sitting all by itself in the corner of the stage. He signaled Sam to come over with him and check out who it was from.

"There's no card," Dean stated, looking it over. "Why would someone buy something so big and not sign it?"

"I don't have a signature," Cas answered.

The brothers tore off the paper and there stood a crib. Dean studied it for a minute and looked at Cas, confused.

"How did you get this?"

"It took some doing."

"What?" Sam looked confused.

"It's yours. And mine. From mom and dad's house." Dean rubbed the top of the drop side and reminisced. "I used to stick little army dudes in between these rungs, Sammy. Mom would come and get you after your nap and about a hundred of them would fall on the floor. She had this bentwood rocking chair she'd use to put you to sleep at night, and I'd sit on the floor, just watching her. Thanks, Cas."

"I heard it was customary for a parent to want their child to use their crib, if possible. I made some repairs to bring it up to standard and avoid any recalls."

Sam smiled a broad smile. "Recalls? I don't think 1978 is calling to get their crib back."

Cas crinkled his brow and shook his head. "What is it you say? 'I got nothin''."

Dean pulled Cas close and hugged him tightly. "You're my brother."

"It's my honor."

"Cas," Sam extended his hand to shake and then the two hugged. This was a magical moment in a magical day, and everyone knew it.

Abby came up to Dean and rubbed his back. "You wanna go home and relax?"

"My place or yours?"

"How about the closest?"

"Deal. Sam…I'll see you in the morning." _Nope. Not missing this opportunity again…_

Sam smiled at this brother, then shook his head. Nothing would cage that damn crotch of his…

They walked slowly, holding hands down the now-familiar path to Abby and Susanna's house. Guests who were at the party waved at them and sent small wishes of a good night and were obviously pleased with the parings of the sisters and the brothers. Abby stopped occasionally to smell the air—it was a cold night and fireplaces were the chosen method of heat, producing a scent that would allure any visitor to invite themselves in for a hot tea.

They entered the house and each leaned in for a kiss. It was a challenge for Abby to remember that Dean was not in the best physical condition for sex, and not only that, try being _a guy_ and doing that…

She broke free from the kiss and smiled, and as he reached again for her, she pulled back and cupped his face in her hands. "Let me take care of you tonight. We have plenty of time for all sorts of things later on. Just—let me take care of you."

She took off his jacket slowly and silently, and then his overshirt. She pulled him by the hand and sat him on the couch, unstrung his boots and took them off, as well. She moved then, behind him, and lifted his shirt over his head. She was amazed at how Cas' spell was working. Dean's body was chiseled and muscular—not as lean as Sam's appeared to be, but impressive nonetheless. She thought of how odd it must be for Dean that he could see the progression of the pregnancy, but no one else could. It was an interesting quandary…

She began to massage his shoulders and arms, and he leaned against her, taking her hand and pulling her toward his lips. She spun around from behind and moved to straddle his lap as they explored each other with lips and hands. She was ready and he was, too. She moved to unbutton his jeans and he lifted his hips a little to get them off. Both were anxious to embark onto a more intimate journey in their relationship, but both knew at this juncture it was almost physically impossible…

He sat there in his boxers and Abby sat between his knees on the floor. She took one leg and began again to massage it. Dean was unaware of how tired his body was, and succumbed to the pleasure of having his swollen legs and feet loosened up. She moved from his feet to his arms and hands, and again, Dean thought he was swimming in a sea of relief that would leave him like jelly. He looked at her again and smiled. "You know how long it's been since I slept in a bed? I need to be horizontal."

She giggled and led him upstairs by the hand. He laid down first, and then she. She kissed his shoulder before nodding off. He smiled because he wouldn't be alone. Ever again.


	18. Chapter 18

Salt of the Earth Chapter 18

March came and went, and Sam noticed his brother's pace slowing a little. He hadn't started to "waddle," although Sam teased him about it—nothing changed his physiology—his chromosomes were still xy and his pelvis had not widened as a female's does. The babies wouldn't pass through it, so there was no reason. Dean, however, started to worry a little more, about the process of how the children would be born and how safe it would be for them, and how he would be able to tolerate it. To sum it up, he was scared. Happy, but scared.

Little did they know, that time would be approaching sooner than either thought.

In early April, Dean complained about not feeling the babies moving as much, and that he began to feel lighter and more able to breathe. Neither he nor Sam knew the implications of this, but the girls did, and began to watch Dean just a little closer.

His 'nesting' was making Sam nuts. He cleaned EVERYTHING, even things that he cleaned just a day ago. He threw things out. He washed clothes over and over. He made their beds _every day_. He claimed because he was getting stir crazy because of the length of winter and being cooped up. When Sam suggested that the time was getting near, he'd silently acknowledge the comment or reply with a "Yeah," and keep moving.

"Dean. Stop," Sam urged. "You need to stop. It's ten o'clock." He sat in the living room again, watching in amazement as his brother dusted the same damn clock three times. "At night."

Dean did stop. His shoulders sunk.

"Dude, I'm fucking scared. And I'm tired. And I'm scared."

"I know. So am I. We're in this together, Dean. I'll be right there with you through all of it-."

"You can't see this! If you did, you be freakin' out, too!" He glanced down at his swollen belly. When the babies moved now, his skin almost looked transparent and it frightened him. "How are they gonna get out?"

"Cas said he'd take care of you. It's gonna hurt, but you'll be okay. You always are."

"Not helping." Dean's sighed and looked outside for a moment. "You know what scared me the most when Crowley had me?"

"Aside from thinking I wasn't coming for you?"

Dean was shocked. Sam knew all along that his abandonment shook his elder brother to the core, but his awareness and honesty about just how much of a fuckup that was and saying it so directly surprised him. He found himself mute, and just looked at the floor.

"I know I've said this before, and I'll say it a million times more. I messed up. But just once, _just once_, and I'll never do it again. Ever. You're my brother. I couldn't do this without you. I wouldn't want to. As big as this is—me being a dad—cripe, that even sounds weird—I know that I would have had a gigantic missing piece if you weren't there. I would have missed you every day. I would have found myself wanting to tell you things." Sam shook his head and swallowed as his eyes teared up. "You've taken good care of me all my life. To think again that you were gone made me sick. I know we're not professional dads or anything, but, I need you. I need you to be here with me through this. I just needed you to be here. The trials, Cas, Heaven—all of this—none of this-would have mattered until I got you back. I never would have left you."

Dean cleared his throat. Damn, being a 'host' and not having control over your own emotions _sucked_. "Yeah, aside from that, I was afraid I'd disappoint you."

Now the surprise was Sam's turn. "Disappoint me?! How could you disappoint me? You've never done that in your life!"

"I dunno. It's dumb. I was alone for days. There was no door. They just 'flitted' in and out. He did tests on me and the kids and I thought maybe you would have expected me to fight more. I would have died for them, too, Sammy."

"I know."

Dean swallowed again and shook off the waterworks. "At any rate, now I have to, um, deliver them, eight weeks sooner than we expected, and I know you'll be there for me, but I'm still freaked out. Dude—my stomach is HUGE."

"It's pretty normal. Maybe we should have watched more Baby Story." As Sam thought of his latest lame attempt to calm his brother, he had to laugh at himself. This, too, earned an incredulous look from the only other person in the room.

"Really? They have a floor for angel C-sections and superkids? Cool—what channel?"

Sam rolled his eyes, then acknowledged his brother's fear. "I'm sorry."

"You got nothing to be sorry for. Maybe everybody feels this way. I'm excited, but I'm scared shitless, I feel like I'm gonna explode. You know what I dreamt last night?"

"What?"

"I ended up in an Alien movie." He followed up with sound effects of exploding and a gesture from his middle. "It wasn't pretty, Sam."

The younger Winchester winced. "Have you talked to Abby about it?"

Dean huffed in annoyance. "No. I haven't—you know-yet, you know? It might kill the mood."

This time Dean got the look. "Score? You like her—probably love her and-."

"I'm having my brother's babies. Romantic."

"We should go to bed. You want me to bunk with you?" _There you go again, Sam…way to support…_

"Wait. What?! You're so fucking lame. I think if something happens, you'll hear me."

"Okay, but-."

"NO, SAM!"

That night, after Dean was asleep, Sam crept in his room and hooked up a baby monitor they had received as a gift. One with a video camera.

SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN

When Sam awoke this next morning, it was still dark outside. He glanced at the monitor. Dean wasn't in bed, and he hadn't heard any cries through the night. The sun was just beginning to rise.

He strolled down the hallway to the bathroom and still, there was no sign of Dean. Naturally, Sam's inclination that something wasn't good began to tingle a little bit; that is, until he walked into the kitchen and saw the coffee pot was on.

He heard the swing outside on the porch, poured himself a cup, and joined his brother outside.

"What are you doing up so early?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"How come?"

"They started at three this morning."


	19. Chapter 19

Salt of the Earth Chapter 19

"Oh, shit. Oh, shit, oh, shit!" Sam ran his fingers through his hair and paced the deck. His coffee fell outside the porch and onto the flowers and he didn't even try to pick up the cup.

"Easy, Samantha. They're ten minutes apart, and I'm fine. Okay?" _Not very convincing, Dean-O…_

"How does it feel?"

"Like a bad poop cramp. And it burns like when you lift weights. And my pelvis aches. Why does my pelvis ache?"

He and Sam sat quietly for a few minutes, then Dean got a sour look on his face and rubbed the side of his abdomen. Sam moved in front of him as he clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he looked down at his brother and started to smile, then laughed.

"You're such a geek." He panted out his last deep breath and let the contraction pass and pushed Sam away from him, and he landed on his ass.

"This may be the last meal I have for awhile, and I'm hungry. Whatchu cookin?"

"Should you even eat?"

"I dunno." Dean got up and headed through the front door, slowly.

Sam sat back in the wicker chair, his mind set at warp speed. _I'm gonna be a dad by the end of the day. I gotta take care of him. I gotta take care of them. Holy shit this is scarier than I thought…._

Dean peeked his head out the door and snapped his fingers. "Hey, Chef Bravo—chop chop."

Sam emerged from the maelstrom in his head, deer-in-the-headlights full-on right at Dean. "Yeah—I'm coming." He rose out of his chair on shaky legs and went into the kitchen and lit the stove for breakfast.

Dean paced the main floor of the house while Sam prepared their meal. At times he would crouch down and lean on his knees, other times he would grab the railing by the steps and stop and wince and massage his hip with the free hand. His breathing was patterned and slow, much like John taught them how to handle pain when they were younger and had to repair wounds without the aid of a doctor. Sweat started to bead on his forehead.

"Tell me again why I have to do this?"

"Cas said the more human the experience-."

"Are we sure they're not gonna—come out, you know, a more traditional way? 'Cuz it feels like it…" Dean thought about it for a few seconds, and cringed. "Oh, God, Sammy, please don't tell me-."

"Cas said no. You're not equipped for that sort of—thing. I think…"

The brothers' eyes met, then both looked away.

"Sam, if you say something—anything—that even alludes to that, as soon as this is over-."

"Well, you haven't found anything—different—have you?"

"Fuck you, Sam."

"It's supposed to hurt, ya know? Sorry I can't help you more."

Dean waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Hey remind me never to have sex again and get anyone pregnant—not even a monster. Could you do that?"

"Ok, Captain Kirk."

This earned an acrimonious stare from his older brother. Sam smiled.

"Aliens, Sam, he fucked aliens. All of them. I bet some had six boobs. And litters."

Sam chuckled. "There's the screenplay for the next movie."

The brothers ate in silence. Dean opted for just toast with butter.

Sam stopped mid-chew when he heard his brother gasp. A small squeak escaped, forsaking it's owner and eliciting a frustrated groan. Dean panted as it ebbed. "Fucker!"

"Closer?"

"Yeah, I think. Aren't you supposed to be doing this? Timing them? Eight minutes."

"Want me to hold your hand, too?"

"Touch me and choke on your eggs. I'm gonna go upstairs." Dean grabbed the back of his chair for support and headed towards the staircase.

Leaving the remainder of his meal sitting unattended on the table, Sam followed him, close behind, and placed his hand on the small of his brother's back. "Yeah, I touched you. My eggs are gone."

They reached the top of the stairs and Dean entered his bedroom. Another one hit, and he stopped mid-step and almost fell to his knees. His eyes were shut, he was blowing so his cheeks puffed out and his hands were clenched into fists. He reared his head back and hissed through his teeth. Then his eyes opened wide and his started to gag.

"I'm gonna be sick-."

Sam rushed a nearby small trashcan in front of Dean, and rubbed his brother's shoulder blades as he heaved.

"Fuck you, Sam."

"Getting pretty bad, huh? " Sam asked sympathetically, as he came out of the bathroom with another glass of water.

Dean sipped the water and spit it into the trash. "I guess, maybe. Yeah." Dean attempted to push down his concern and lighten the mood. "No, not really. I've had bigger shits than this."

"I'm calling the girls. Where you wanna go? Let me help you."

"No, don't do that yet. Gawd, this is embarrassing."

Dean grabbed his brother's arm and slowly pulled himself up to a (semi) standing position. "Just lemme sit on the bed for a while."

SIX HOURS LATER…((Spongebob style))

"SAM! I SWEAR ON ALL THAT'S HOLY, IF YOU EVER FUCK ANOTHER ANGEL AND KNOCK HER UP, I WILL PERSONALLY REMOVE YOUR NOSE AND PUNCH IT THROUGH THE BACK OF YOUR HEAD. SONOFABITCH THIS HURTS!"

"They say the second time's easier than the first."

"Fuck you, dude." Dean started to giggle, then quickly winced again.

Sam smiled and rolled his eyes and glanced at Abby, who was kneeling in front of Dean and allowing him to rest his head on her shoulder while she massaged his upper body. He was on all fours in the middle of the bedroom and Susanna was rubbing the small of his back and his hips.

"This really isn't the three-way I pictured, girls," he grunted between pants. "Gawd, this sucks out loud."

"Just keep breathing, Dean," Abby soothed. She rubbed his sweat-soaked head and kissed his hair. "You're doing fine."

"It hurts."

"I know."

The contractions were about four minutes apart and increasing exponentially as they progressed. They lasted longer, too, and Sam was worried how his brother's stamina was going to hold out. Birth is sort of a war of attrition—the pain is _bad_, as any mother will contest, but it combined with the length of the labor is what wears her down, and Dean was no different. With each contraction his resolve to remain brave crumbled a little more and it was at least going to be another few hours until he was able to deliver. They had fought demons and demigods, run from angels and werewolves—Dean had endurance, but nothing like this. It was exhausting him and he still had a ways to go. He couldn't hide and rest for a few minutes or draw a sigil and send someone to the outskirts of Siberia. He hung his head after each muscular seize was over, and before too long, he couldn't even talk anymore. All he did was grunt and pant and hold his breath until it was over.

The labor progressed from four to three minutes, and then from three to two. The contractions lasted as long as the breaks in between, and Dean was wearing out.

"I need to get on the bed." _Okay—bravado gone. This hurts_… Sam knew it was gone, as well, hearing the shake in his brother's voice and Dean's atypical avoidance of eye contact.

Sam got under one arm and Susanna scooped up the other. They led him over, sat him down gingerly and eased him onto his side. The younger knelt on the floor, facing him and gripped his hand tight. It was time to have a "chick-flick moment." Sam had a captive audience, and he planned on taking full advantage of it. Abby recognized the need for the brothers to call a short time out and signaled Susanna and they left the room to gather supplies to welcome the little ones. They closed the door softly behind them and left Sam and Dean to themselves.

"It's not just gonna be me and you anymore, Sammy." Dean swallowed hard. "We're not alone anymore."

Sam ran his hand over his brother's forehead and back over his hair. "I know. You were never alone. We never were."

"I'm scared."

"I am, too."

"You better make it through these trials, dude, you're not leaving me."

"Call me Superman."

Dean made an honest attempt to laugh, but his face contorted as his abdomen began to tighten again. He gripped Sam's hand harder and started to pant.

"Oh, Gawd, please let this be over soon. I can't do it anymore! I can't! I can't! Sammy, please hit me as hard as you can, _PLEASE?_! Knock me out! I can't do this! I'm sorry, Sammy! I quit! It hurts! Ohhhhh, GAWD!"

Sam's grip tightened around his brother's. He watched as Dean grunted and inhaled for more air.

"It hurts everywhere, Sam! My back and my stomach and my legs. It hurts."

_Who else would do this for me?_

_No one, Sam…a girl would, because that's what wives do…a guy? No one would. Except Dean. If he knew he could hand me a normal life on a platter, he'd die bringing me the silverware._

His stomach tightening even more, Dean buried his face in his brother's chest, grabbed a handful of Sam's shirt and started to scream. He hated having him see him like this, but he honestly didn't have the gusto to care.

Sam knew there was nothing he could do to soothe his brother at this point. He just held on and whispered encouragements quietly in his ear. "Yes you can…yes you can…you're my brother…you're the strongest person I know…you can do this…I know you can. I'm here…I'm here…I'm here…"

The sisters reentered the room carrying the supplies they gathered. "Sam, how far apart?"

"A minute and a half, maybe."

At that moment, Dean felt something give inside him. Something opened and gave way, and he panicked. "SAM! IT BURNS!" A low guttural roar came out, followed by a shriek.

Sam knew that if he lost control, his brother would panic more. Now wasn't the time, but someone was missing and needed to be here. "CAS! NOW WOULD BE NICE!" He grabbed his brother's face and forced their eyes to meet. "Look at me, Dean! Look at me! Breathe with me—it's almost done, Cas is coming-." Sam took some deep breaths and continued encouraging his brother to mimic him until Dean was able to continue on his own, keeping his eyes fixed on Sam the whole time.

As if he was waiting, Cas appeared in the room and quickly took over the scene. He removed his overcoat and rolled up his sleeves and knelt beside his friend. He helped Dean roll over gently onto his back and started palpating his stomach.

"CAS! _PLEASE_ MAKE THIS STOP!"

"It's almost over, Dean. Hold on." Cas' voice was so calm and filled with peace, that for a second, a quietness filled the room.

With Sam kneeling beside him clutching Dean's hand, arm-wrestler style, Cas instructed Abby to Dean's other side to hold his free hand. Dean started to cry.

"This will be uncomfortable, but it will be over." Cas' hands lit and glowed, then Sam watched him reach inside his brother's belly. "Dean, push."

"Wait…What?! Why?!" The laboring man's questions went unanswered as his body overtook his will and revolted, forcing him to grimace and bear down.

Then Dean did the most heroic thing his brother had ever witnessed. He was exhausted and in the most pain he'd been in in his life _bar none_, but _he took a deep breath and pushed._He pushed past the fear and the burn and the pain. He pushed until his face was purple and Sam thought he was going to pass out. He did everything he was asked to do for the sake of his brother and his children. Blood vessels broke under his skin and encircled his hairline like a tattooed halo. As soon as he would run out of oxygen, he'd take another breath and do it again, sometimes with a grunt and a whimper.

Sam watched as Cas hurriedly worked, it looked like to free the child from his brother. Dean was obviously still in pain—his back was arched and the veins in his neck and forehead bulged and his legs were shaking. His eyes were clamped shut and his hand was clasping Sam's so tight he thought he'd be wearing a cast…

"Stop for a second, Dean. Breathe through it. Pant. That's it. Stay with me."

Dean did as was asked, even though everything in his body was telling him to do otherwise. With every exhale, he groaned until suddenly he gasped and yelped and dug his heels into the mattress, as if in a spasm, forcing the rest of his body towards the headboard.

Suddenly, a small cry was heard. Cas smiled and pulled the bloody, messy child from Dean's abdomen. "It's a girl," he stated, still smiling. At that moment, Little Miss Winchester announced her arrival, diva-style, and let out a loud wail. Cas laid her in Dean's arms as Sam sat in wonder, giggling and tearing up at the same time.

Dean relaxed into the bed, breathing like he'd just finished a triathalon. He was shaking so violently he didn't know if he could really hold her for long. "Hey, Sweetheart. It's Uncle Dean. Daddy's right next to me. You got his cry." He kissed her on her messy head, and hearing his voice clearly for the first time, the baby hushed instantly, opened her eyes wide and started to search the room for the familiar sound.

Sam searched for words that his tears spoke for him. "She knows you already."

"Sam? Do the dad's honor," Susanna piped up, handing him a pair of small scissors. "Cut it, right there between the clamps."

Once more in this day of days, Sam was amazed at what his brother consented to. He couldn't see where the cord led. It was just a tether to the outside of his brother's stomach, but it was something he _grew inside him,_knowingly or not. His brother allowed the use of his own body to bring this child to life. He defended her, fed her, and took care of himself for her sake. To Sam at that moment in time, his brother was the biggest hero in the world. _As if he wasn't before_…

Once the cord was cut, Abby wrapped her in a receiving blanket and carried her over to a nearby changing table to clean her a little more, weigh her, put on her first tiny little diaper, and get her warmed up.

It wasn't long before Dean began to cringe again, and then soon after that, the contractions for the second baby returned in full force, his body preparing for another angelic invasion and delivery. Unconsciously, both of his hands clenched tight into fists again, this time full of the sheets from the bed. "Cas-!"

Sam heard the desperation and fear in his brother's voice and tore his eyes away from his newborn daughter, returning to Dean's side to hold his hand once again.

"I'm on it, Dean. Take a deep breath and we'll finish this."

Dean closed his eyes and pushed as another contraction racked his body. Cas' hands glowed again, and as before, he reached deep into his friend. Dean whimpered and panted and grunted through the pain. This delivery was taking a little longer, and he could feel Cas searching his belly to retrieve the remaining child.

"What's wrong?! What are you doing?!" he yelled, squeezing Sam's fist till he thought he'd break it. "Nghhhhh-Cas!"

"Push, Dean! Hard!"

Drenched with sweat and tears, wide-eyed and afraid, Dean inhaled for a long time and pushed until he thought his brain was going to exit through his sinuses. He grunted again while Sam counted to ten, then he let his breath out.

"Again!" Cas demanded. "NOW!"

Dean gritted his teeth, held his breath and pushed. The burn was back, as well as the intense pressure on the lower half of his body, until he felt the child's head free itself.

He inhaled sharply, partially out of shock and gasping for air while Cas cleared the baby's airway. "One more time, Dean, then you're done."

He felt his body clamp down before he could catch his breath, and he groaned through the urge. He stopped to pant, and pushed again. He could feel the child be released through sinews of muscle and a gush of fluid. Then, the first breath and loud cry. Dean closed his eyes for a moment and just listened…to his nephew.

"Ha! It's a boy, Dean! Look!" Sam exclaimed, this time ready for the scissors. Abby repeated the same process as before, and Dean spoke for the first time to the newborn little boy in his brother's proud arms.

"Hey, boy, I think you look like your uncle. You're a handsome guy, ain't ya?" Dean relaxed his head against the pillow. Again, for the second time, the child quieted and searched the room for the voice he'd heard for the past months. "They both know you," Sam said through his tears. "I think you're their hero, too."

"You can call me Batman," he responded breathily.

Sam moved closer to his brother. "Thank you," he said softly.

"My pleasure. If you ever do this again, I'll punch you in the back and leave you to die in the street. Go get your kids while I kiss my girl."

He smiled and wiped his eyes and brow, then he reached for Abby and drew her in for a kiss. She rested her head on his, not trying at all to cover her emotion. She kissed him again on the cheek and then on the lips. "I'm proud of you," she said with a trembling voice. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Cas worked quickly to induce the healing process of his friend. Dean reached up and grabbed his sleeve and their eyes locked. Cas stooped to get closer to his friend, and Dean grabbed the side of his neck and pulled him closer. No words were exchanged. There were none needed. Dean smiled weakly at the angel, and Cas returned the gesture. Cas was Dean's champion, even when Dean didn't understand or approve. This man, this "hairless ape," a being despised by some angels and endeared by others, had won his absolute loyalty and affection and Cas knew in his heart that he was willing to die for him. Dean had always put himself in the front and center of the line of fire, ready and willing to take a hit for someone significant (and everyone was), and Cas arrived at the notion that no one, _no one,_ could have pulled this off like his friend. Cas sat back and watched as Sam towered over his new family as Dean looked on from his bed.

_Yep. Mark this off the bucket list. Now we gotta find out the deal with the angels…God I'm tired…_

Dean drifted off into a peaceful sleep, listening to the girls talk about the babies' weight and something called APGAR…

A/N: STAY TUNED for the next chapter and discover the angelic suggestion for handling these two! And their names!


	20. Chapter 20

Salt of the Earth Chapter 20

A/N: The image of Calliel in this chapter reflects a painting at a Christian bookstore I saw years ago—it's called Watchers in the Night by Thomas Blackshear II. Google it! It literally took my breath away!

Dean awoke to the sunlight beaming into his bedroom. His hand went immediately to his torso. It was flat again, the muscle had reappeared and the pain was gone. He was tired and sore, but otherwise, he felt good. He could breathe again, and his back didn't hurt anymore. His legs weren't swollen, either. _Really?! How could I miss the squirming?! It kept me up. They kicked my bladder. And my ribs. And my spleen…_Dean rolled his eyes to himself as he gave up trying to deny it. _ALRIGHT. FINE. I MISS IT, OKAY?! It was kinda cool…overwhelming, but cool. No—never admit it to  
Sam—nope, never…_

He could hear muted voices from down in the living room, and removed the bedspread and slipped his feet into slippers that had been placed on the floor by the nightstand. He was surprised to find he had sweatpants on, and apparently had been cleaned up, because he didn't smell himself. _I had to be pretty ripe._His hands searched the sheets for any sign of the birth process the night before and discovered that the sheets were changed and clean, as well. He was also surprised at how weak he was when he tried to stand. His legs were shaky and he wobbled a little, but he easily adjusted and was able to walk out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

From the top of the steps he could see part way into the living room. Anse was there with Bob and David, and the girls were there, too. Mrs. Pemby fussed over the babies, as promised. She cooed and giggled and talked to them, encouraging them to 'tell her a story.' They were all gathered around the couch, but no one noticed him. He sat on the top step and decided to watch.

_So this is what it's like to be Cas. Pretty cool._Calliel stood in the corner and sent Dean a wink, a nod, and a silent but enthusiastic thumbs up. Dean wasn't even sure that the others knew he was there. He nodded and winked back. The angel had his wings spread in a mighty display against the wall, in his left hand he held a mighty staff, and in his right, a tongue of fire. _Now that's BADASS…_ This, again, reaffirmed to Dean that no harm would ever come to these children.

Bob shifted to the left some, towards the front door, and then, for a second, Dean recalled the part of the Grinch story where the green anti-hero's heart grew to three times its size. There was Sam, sitting on the couch, smiling—no, _beaming—_ beside Mrs. Pemby and cradling his two babies in his arms. He was freely laughing and talking to Anse and listening to advice from the men. Every second or so, he would glance down, and with all the times Dean teased him about falling in love, he witnessed it himself, in real time. He was pleased at this point that he went unnoticed, because he had time to dry his eyes before he strolled the rest of the way downstairs.

He actually got to the middle of the flight before a creak gave him away. He offered a shy, "Hey," finished the steps and walked towards his brother and their new family. All others in the room hushed and patted him on the shoulder and looked on as Dean approached his brother. Sam looked up and smiled and scooted over for Dean to sit beside him. He handed the child nearest him and Dean took her without hesitation. Her skin was clear and pink and her nose was tiny and she had the littlest hands Dean had ever seen, but, they were perfect. Her eyelashes were long and Dean giggled when she started sucking in her sleep. Sam shifted over and handed the boy to him as well. His left foot was sticking out from under the receiving blanket and Dean was amazed at how little and wrinkly it was. He touched the heel and giggled when the baby retracted it back into the warmth under his swaddling. He felt himself becoming fascinated with them and that they were actually _inside his body_ less than 24 hours ago. There was no doubt they were part angel. Dean used to laugh and tell Sam that he'd never seen a pretty baby in his life ("Dude—they're wrinkly and bald—if it ain't pretty when you're old, it ain't pretty when you're a baby! And you-you were _really_ ugly…") This, _this_ changed his mind. The boy was awake and had the brightest blue eyes Dean had ever seen and his hands were big like Sam's. His lips formed a perfect "o" as he looked around the room, and then he yawned.

"He worked hard today," Sam cooed. "He ate 3 ounces of formula, and then he pooped."

Dean looked up at his brother. Of course, he was a little teary—Dean promised himself he'd tease him about that later—but all Dean could do was smile back. "You did good, little brother."

Sam chuckled briefly and said, "You did, too."

He looked down again, quickly disregarding the thought of these two being in the hands of Crowley. He found himself getting a little teary, as well, then it occurred to him: "What are their names?"

Sam looked up at Anse and the sisters. He smiled and looked at Dean. "Your nephew's name is Anderson Dean. If it wasn't for either of you, he wouldn't exist. And this most beautiful little girl in the world, her name is Mary-Elizabeth. It's Abby and Susie's mom's name. And they both weighed 6 and a half pounds. Twins are usually a little small, but these are average-sized. You should be proud of yourself."

Dean nodded with approval and looked up at his company. This time was bittersweet. He wished his dad was there to see that he and Sam had 'done good,' and he wished Bobby was there to hold his adopted grandbabies. He smiled again, but couldn't resist the wisecrack. He raised his eyebrows and looked at the babies again. "Anderson Winchester, Mary-Elizabeth Winchester-cool names, you two, but I need to apologize in advance for First Grade Write Your Name Class-I hope you're as smart as your dad."

Just then, Mary-Elizabeth sneezed. Dean smiled, feeling as joyous and relaxed as his brother, recognized the little movements she made as familiar. "That was you, huh? I think I'm gonna call you Sneezy."

"Wait. You felt that?" Sam asked, amazed.

Dean raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Yep. Every couple days. I didn't know what it was at the time, but, yeah, now I know. I felt hiccups, too."

He traced his finger around Little Anderson's hands and the child gripped it tight. Dean, then, felt himself falling in love, as well.

"If they stay here—they can run and play and jump." Dean's eyes filled with tears. "And have friends. And a home. And a mom."

Sam choked up and a huge tear dropped from his cheek. "They'll never know the life we had. I know." They locked eyes for a short second and both offered a fleeting, strained smile to the other.

Cas appeared among the group and looked favorably at the new family. The men greeted him with handshakes and 'thank-yous,' and then he turned to the brothers after acknowledging Calliel.

He studied Dean momentarily. "You look well." He knelt down and rubbed the babies heads with his thumb and smiled. "They're beautiful." He looked away for a second, like he was grieved, and refocused on the boys. "I would—be very happy—if all I had to do was celebrate with you, but there is a matter of business we need to attend to." He looked each brother straight in the eyes, then blinked and looked around the rest of the room. "I only have 24 hours from their birth to give Heaven a decision on how to handle—them," he started.

Dean's face hardened, as well as Sam's. The elder Winchester was regretting his choice of slippers already, had they needed to make a hasty exit.

"You have to make a choice." Cas sat on the coffee table in front of the men. "You can leave them as they are, but by tonight, a garrison of angels will come and assume ownership of what they think is theirs. There will be nothing you can do. You can use sigils and try to ward them off, but they will come."

Dean set his jaw and looked at his brother. He remained silent, wanting desperately to believe that his friend wouldn't allow this to happen and had negotiated another way they could stay with their children. Sam was honed and focused on every word Cas said. Dean swore he could see all the cylinders firing in his brother's head.

"I was able to negotiate at least two more options." Cas took a breath. "I can bind their grace, just like Anna's, until they are older and able to decide their own path, or, I can make them entirely human, if Sam, you have found a suitable female that would assume the biological motherhood of your son and daughter."

The brothers looked at each other, then again to Cas. Just four months ago they learned of the soon-to-be-additions to their family, and now they had to make a decision that would _entirely_ affect these babies' futures. It saddened Sam that he didn't have a dad or Bobby to seek for advice, especially since he felt he had to make it _now_, but he did have a brother who had proven his devotion not only to him, but his children, as well, AND he had the three additional men in the room who he trusted.

"How long do I have?"

"4:06 this afternoon. That's when Mary-Elizabeth took her first breath."

Sam agreed. "Can I think about it?"

Cas tried to sound as empathetic as he could. "Yes. I know this is a hard matter to consider." He leaned in closer to Dean and touched the babies' heads again and smiled and thought he might feel teary himself. "I'll be back at 3:30."


	21. Chapter 21

Salt of the Earth Chapter 21

Sam and Dean waited and watched for Castiel's return. They played with the babies and the girls cleaned house, made meals and entertained visitors who wanted to meet Anderson and Mary-Elizabeth for the first time. All congratulated Sam and Dean, and were curious about Dean's experience with bringing them into the world. Sam continued to hover over him protectively and encouraged him to rest. He was still tired and dozed for a few minutes at a time when they would get a break. His body was exhausted from all its previous efforts, not only from the day before, but from the months prior—_he'd made two human beings! Anyone who complains that a pregnant woman is_ _tired all the time or mean really doesn't get the whole picture of what she's accomplishing…_

He reflected on it, as well, from time to time throughout the day. He marveled at the process by which they were born and still had some feelings of being overwhelmed that he carried them inside his body. He would stop to look at them and smile; other times he would touch their hair and listen to their breath while they were eating. He watched them sleep and smile when Calliel was near—yes, babies smile at their guardian angel—all babies do, and Dean felt lucky that he was able to see this, because people outside of the farm didn't. He had to laugh when he observed the Guardian with Mary-Elizabeth and Anderson. The huge angel cooed and talked baby talk and giggled with them. He was often finding himself wanting to ask Calliel what they were saying, but opted not to; some things should be left unknown and savored anyway.

Sam seemed like a new man, somehow. Actually, he was. Dads are born the same day as their children, as opposed to women, most of whom transform the day they realize they're pregnant. Dean saw another Guardian appear, too, when he would watch Sam with his son and daughter when people came to visit. He wondered, too, if this wasn't some 'master plan' orchestrated by Cas to get Sam a normal life despite their upbringing and the younger's spectacular clashes with his own father. It's true when someone says, "Wait until you have your own kids, then you'll understand." The beauty of it is, with the Winchesters, they adapt quickly. Their life experience had taught them this. John had taught them this, and even though Sam had his own issues with his dad, he realized that he honestly did the best he could, given the circumstances. He was a good dad. He never deprived them of love, even when he was angry. Sam, knew, too, that he would never, _ever_, be able to look at his children and recall there ever being a time where he felt unloved, and he had every intention of letting them know this, too.

Even though the brothers had seen things in their lives that would make others cringe and scream and run away, both, somehow, still retained the ability to be awestruck at the most mundane things of the human experience, and this was one of them. Dean would catch him looking at him and chastise him with either a "Gawd, you're such geek, knock it off," or he's look at Sam and blow a snarky kiss at him.

3:30 came, and Cas arrived. He brought emissaries from the garrison to witness the Winchester's decision about the nephilim and report back, as they were waiting close by, prepared for either a war or celebration.

"Hello," he said. It was apparent that he was anxious about the brothers' decision, and although it might result in a fight he would obviously side with the Winchesters on, he said before that he would die for them. He would be ready—even if it would be a losing battle.

Abby stood at Dean's side as he held Anderson and Susanna cradled Mary-Elizabeth. The volunteers of the farm stood vigil outside, waiting for the results of the meeting.

"This is Ananchel. She is the Angel of Grace and is here should you have decided to bind it, and this is Armaita. She is the Angel of Truth. She can report back to the numbers that are waiting nearby with your decision with no suspicion of guise."

The brothers nodded and acknowledged the other angels, who chose to remain silent until the decision of the brothers was made known to them. Calliel stood near with his arms folded, jaw clenched and ready to do his job should the need call for it.

Both Dean and Sam said nothing. They stood side by side as a united front to present the decision to the heavenly host. Cas was comforted that the girls were there. He also noted that there were volunteers from the ranch gathering outside, also interested in what would transpire inside.

Sam spoke first. He thought it appropriate since he was the children's father. He closed his eyes to organize his thoughts to present their decision in the least offensive way. "Dean and I and the girls gave it a lot of thought, and what we decided wasn't easy, but we think it's best. We'd like them to be human. Susanna and I will be their mom and dad-."

"Cas, I've known you all my life," Susanna interrupted, stopping to search for Sam's hand and meeting his gaze for a moment, "You know I've always wanted this. You know that I've waited for someone who means enough to me, and you know that Sam is a good man. I want to be these babies' mother, I want to be the mother of his children, and no one else's. I know it's not going to be easy. I know what Sam might be facing soon. And I want him to come home. I want to be the one he comes home to. I want to see his children grow up. I want to be his family-."

"You don't have to present your case." Cas smiled slightly. "Has your father agreed to this?"

"I'm not asking."

Everyone but Ananchel and Armaita giggled.

"_I_ need to ask," Sam started. "Excuse me." He moved to the front door, and before he got there, he caught sight of Anse, standing by the porch outside the window, and gave him the _thumbs up_. Sam returned with a wink, grinned at the thought and faced the group. "Apparently, it's already been discussed. How do we do this?"

"You consent to return their grace to Heaven, with no chance of it ever being returned?" Ananchel clarified. Sam, Dean and Susanna replied in the affirmative, in unison. "You realize they will grow up and bleed and cry, and mourn, and make mistakes?"

Calliel stood behind the Winchesters. He spoke. Generally when he did, everyone listened.

"_I_ am their Guardian.

I will keep them through a thousand perils.

I will deliver messages from On High, and I will thwart the efforts of the one will cause them harm.

I will guide the hands that heal them.

I will inspire the minds who teach them.

I will carry them through rivers of grief and will make straight the paths they choose.

I will comfort them when they mourn.

I will smite those who conspire against them.

I will be their company in loneliness, I will be their voice when they are unable to speak for themselves.

I will advise in moments of confusion.

I will hold them tall when insecurity challenges them.

I am a Guardian Angel,

I am the mightiest of all those assigned with the protection of God's most precious creation.

All of this, I will do, as charged by my Father, and deliver them unto Heaven when He calls them."

All stood in awe. No one dared to speak, until Susanna offered more.

"I'll comfort them when they cry, and when they're scared during thunderstorms, and I'll read them stories, and help them with homework-."

"—And writing their names." Dean added as he scanned the room. "By the way, Uncle Dean here—they have us. We're the dads. We got this covered. Work your mojo so we can move on here, eh? It's almost feeding time."

Ananchel sighed. She was getting to like these folks and their spirit…

She spoke in Enochian and laid her hands on Mary-Elizabeth's and Anderson's heads. A white glow appeared and Sam, Susanna, Dean and Abby could see the path was leading from the newborns into the angel. The babies shivered some, stretched and sqeaked, and then it was done.

Cas reached out to Sam and Susanna and put their hands together, and again spoke in Enochian. After a soft prayer, he laid his hands and Susanna's hands on the babies heads. As if on cue, Mary-Elizabeth and Anderson smiled.

"Congratulations, Susanna."

Abby raised her eyebrows. "That was the easiest birth I've ever seen."

"No shit," Dean replied. "Can we use that again someday?"

Abby faced him and wrapped her arms around his back. "Don't worry. The next one's on me."

"I took the liberty of moving the 'batcave' here," Cas started. "I hope you don't mind. It's kind of a—present."

Dean's eyes widened. "You moved the whole thing!? The whole bunker? Cas—it was a whole mountain thingy!"

"Yes. It's just over the hill. I watered the grass on it, too. Just to be safe." Straight face. All Cas.

Dean looked at Sam and smiled. He was pleased, then he moved to Abby. He smiled and kissed her. This adventure was fucked up, for sure, but eventually something had to work in their favor, right? The road ahead would be nasty, but now they had another purpose, and finally it was a purpose for them and them only. They would return to this ranch for the rest of their lives and live and love their family. For a long time it was just the two of them, now they were blessed with a family bigger than they had ever known. And it wasn't blood, not all of it. And it was okay.

FIN

A/N: Thank y'all SO MUCH for reading! PLEASE keep the reviews and comments coming! This was pure joy to write, and I constantly have new ideas coming! Follow me as a favorite author and I promise you'll be entertained!


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